


Beyond the Veil

by Mozzeltoff



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Merril stop), BAMF Hawke, Gen, Harry & Anders, Harry & Merril, Harry & the DA Gang, Harry Potter in Thedas, Mostly Harry's P.O.V, One sided Anders/Harry (On Anders part), Prostitutes and Apostitutes, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Starts Canon then Diverts, Unreliable Narrator(s), magic shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9791612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozzeltoff/pseuds/Mozzeltoff
Summary: Harry was moving on with his life, happy to settle down with Ginny and become an Auror.While he was expecting hiccups in that plan, he wasn't expecting to get trapped in a world where magic users are oppressed, back ally murders were common, and everything seemed to be on the brink of war all the time. Caught between trying to escape and trying to help, Harry hates how different this world is- and also hates how alike it is.A work that explores the similarities between Thedas and the wizarding world ("You're a Tevinter, Harry"), watches Harry run around Kirkwall with the gang, and eventually get involved in bigger things. Slow build piece that focuses on the relationships between people and the development of politics and power. Starts in Act 1 DA2, will veer into DA novels and hopefully reach DA: Inq in time. Contains DA levels of violence and heartbreak.





	1. Through the Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I’m sure you’re aware, this is a Dragon Age II/ Harry Potter Crossover. This fic follows HP canon (although a mix between book and movie, with tiny details taken from other media), and set a few years after the last book, meaning Harry is a skilled wizard, but not godly/super. This fic starts near the beginning of act 1 in DA:II. I may also draw on DA info from other media. I own neither DA or HP and make no profit from this, nor hold any rights to this, and all characters belong to their respective creators. Should someone else wish to write a fanfic using ideas from this one, they are free to do so. Romances will be in the background, and not the focus of the fic, but there may be one-sided, or short lived relationships involving Harry. There will be F!Hawke/Merril and canon DA/HP relationships mentioned. For Act 1, things will be close to DA canon, then we should begin to veer off during Act 2 and be in unknown territory by Act 3.  
> Super slow build. Very slow. Many words. If all goes as planned, it’ll take 10 5k+ word chapters, not including possible intervals, to even leave act 1.

Harry ached all over. His skin felt raw, his muscles hurt, and he was hypersensitive to everything around him. There were shards of glass pricking him, while his clothes and the rough dirt beneath him scraped against his skin- and this was only his sense of touch. The sensory overload made it hard to focus, but he had to try and take stock of his surroundings and figure out just what the hell was going on.

People were shouting back and forth around him, sounding panicked and angry, barely audible through the ringing in his ears. Unable to make any sense of it, Harry focused on what he could see instead.  It was dark and the nearest source of light seemed to come from the ground beneath him. Looking down, he could make out dimly glowing red lines dancing beneath him, flowing with energy and stinging where they touched him. Further investigation revealed the shards of glass to be the fine remains of a mirror, catching the red light unnervingly. He was tempted to reach out and pick up a piece, as if it would somehow help him figure out what was happening. Before he could, his attention was suddenly caught by what was being spoken, words becoming clear among the cacophony in his ears.

_“What is this?! He isn’t what we wanted- which one of you screwed up?! We were supposed to get a spirit from beyond the beyond, not… this!”_

It was a woman shouting, but other voices answered; men, women, some accents familiar, some not. Harry had a feeling he’d somehow angered the people around him, but he could barely make out the words, let alone make sense of what he was seeing and what part he played in it. Dumbly, he checked to make sure he still had his glasses on, as if that was that was the cause of his disorientation. Pushing them back into place on his nose, unsurprisingly, didn’t help any.

_“Some demons take on human form- get him up, question him. It worked- I felt it work! He has to be a fade creature at least!”_

The white noise began to fade from his mind, but Harry didn’t have much time to enjoy his regained clarity, when hands grabbed his shoulders and arms and pulled him upright. Mirror fragments fell from him, glittering red. The room span for a moment and the sounds deteriorated back into intelligible blares, but eventually a face came into focus.

“We pulled you here from beyond the Fade- Tell us what you are and what you want, and in return for your aid, we shall give it to you.” The voice sounded as if it was trying to be enticing, but was too thick with excitement. Harry found all he could focus on was the woman’s face. It seemed human, but something was subtly different, somehow making the entire face seem even more ‘other’ than if it had been clearly not human. It lacked the stocky angles of a human, instead having smooth cheeks and a straight nose that merged seamlessly and in level with her brow, with no dip or ridge. But it was her eyes that captured Harry’s. They were large and round, coloured with layers and patterns unlike any he’d seen in an iris before.

And they were filled with desperate madness.

Harry struggled against the hands holding him, but found they were the only thing keeping him up, and with each jerk the room threatened to spin again.

“Ilani, we have no idea what it is, let alone what it’s capable of. It might be as mindless as a rage demon- if it’s even a demon!” The man gripping Harry’s left shoulder tightened his hold painfully and Harry strengthened his efforts to escape, as others began voicing their own uncertainties.  
  
“W-we dragged it from the abyss. Where damned souls are cast aside to-“

“-You don’t actually believe that chantry shite do you?”

“ _Le’ go_ …” Harry couldn’t tell if his words were slurred or growled, but he didn’t think the people were listening anyway, caught up in their nonsensical argument. Harry finally took stock of the room, or rather the passage, he was in. It stank of damp, refuse, and blood. The former smells seemed to come from the fact they were in some kind of sewage system, the latter from the slit throats of about half a dozen people, collapsed in a circle around him. Blood pooled from their fallen forms, running into the glyph beneath him. Harry’s eyes darted around more frantically, his breath hitching, taking in the rest of the area with more urgency. There appeared to be the same amount of people still standing as there were fallen, including the three currently in Harry’s immediate area. _Six people, men and woman, some not fully human._

He needed his wand. He needed to get away from them. These people were obviously some kind of cult, although none of it made sense; not how he was involved, not the strange appearances of the people, not the archaic clothes of the dead people or the unusual robes of what must be witches and wizards. Harry’s fledgling Auror training kicked in and he managed enough coordination to slip his wand from it holster on his wrist into his hand.

Something triggered his captors, probably his own sudden movement, and the man who was unsure of Harry before apparently decided he wasn’t going to take any risks. Magic flowed about him in a way Harry had never seen before, flames sparking to life around his hands, with no sign of a wand present. The fiery hand rose above the man’s head, lighting up his haggard features. Their eyes met briefly, and Harry could see the anger and fear in the man’s eyes, with no sign of mercy or hesitation present. Even with wand in hand, Harry wouldn’t be fast enough to defend himself, not with how restrained and disorientated he was.

He knew the hand would have been brought down sharply, and the flames unleashed upon him, had a bolt not suddenly lodged itself in the man’s neck.

“Looks like we’re late to the party. And after Bianca got all prettied up as well.”

Harry wasn’t going to question who the man who’d spoken was, mainly because he had more pressing matters to deal with. The man who had been holding him had fallen over, choking up blood, fire dissipating from the hand that was now reaching towards his throat, along with the one holding Harry. A pony sized dog  barrelled into the strange woman in front of him, and he wasn’t going to question that either, instead taking the opportunity to roll out of the blood circle and away from the heart of the fight that had just erupted. Right now, all he knew was that one side appeared to be insane cultists wanting to kill him, and the other side wanted to kill the insane cultists. If it turned out the newcomers also wanted to kill him, he’d deal with that later, but right now he was for team ‘not-insane-cultists’.

Getting to his feet and readying his wand, Harry went on the defensive. He’d determine more about the other group later, but right now it was difficult enough to even tell what the hell was happening around him, let alone who was part of it. It didn’t help that, on top of his disorientated state, nothing was as it should be. The newcomers were fighting with swords, crossbows, magic and a bloody big dog, while the cultists were… entirely unnatural.

The woman who had spoken to Harry first had managed to throw off the dog. Her eyes glazed over yellow-white, and glowing lines the same colour as the glyphs upon the ground spread across her skin, bleeding through her clothes.

“No- You won’t stop us! We’ve come too far, we’ve done what everyone thought was impossible!” The lines across her body seemed to split her skin, letting blood dance around her hands as if caught by whirling winds. Shadows leapt around her feet and began to stretch away from the ground and take form like twisted dementors. Harry cast on instinct.

_“Expecto patronum!”_

Prongs charged forward, but while the shadows screamed in anger, they didn’t flee like dementors would. Instead the Patronus began fighting them, using antler and hoof and creating pulses of forceful light. Harry had seen Prongs do something similar before, when forcefully driving back large amounts of dementors, but he’d never seen the Patronus actually engage in a _fight._ Despite knowing that Prongs couldn’t be killed, Harry felt his heart race when claws slashed through the ethereal stag’s neck, causing it to rear and shake its head in surprise, form flickering. For a terrifying moment Harry feared for Prongs’ existence. It was only a small relief that the blow didn’t seem to damage Prongs, as it might a real deer, and the re-stabilised Patronus only tossed its head as if accepting an exciting challenge and fought on, silver pulses of light pushing the shadows back with every attack the stag preformed. Harry threw in his own spells, keeping the shadows from being able to get another blow on Prongs, while trying to spot an escape route. His spells felt strange, almost like they were pulling on him as he flung them away. Harry wasn’t sure why, but it was yet another oddity that pushed him to wanting to escape as soon as possible.

But now, instead of letting his Patronus deal with the shadow creatures while he looked for an escape, Harry had to focus on keeping Prongs from potential harm. One advantage at least was that, other than the shadow, most seemed keen to keep their distance from Prongs. Having been able to take more of the situation in, Harry realised that out of the newcomers only an armoured woman and the large mastiff were fighting close range. He caught glimpses of more figures, who had to be wizards or witches, throwing spells in to cover the woman in the same way Harry was covering Prongs. Besides the cultists, who seemed to react to Prongs with a range of emotions from fear to awe, the armoured woman gave the stag a wide eyed and then narrowed look, glancing to him across the battle for a moment, before turning to cleave into a cultist who had been taken off guard by a spelled rock sticking her across the face. Now it was four cultists versus what Harry guessed to be at least four newcomers plus the dog. With Harry aiding the latter, he felt his chances of getting out of this increase.

Still he had no chance to escape yet, and the shadows were proving difficult to banish. On top of that, he wasn’t being ignored either. The other combatants seemed to be concentrating on their own fight, all except the woman with the strangely beautiful face, who was watching Prong’s battle the shades with awe widened eyes.

“See! This new magic could be ours! You could help us! You’re _supposed_ to help us!” The woman had turned to face him, blood swirling from the gaping bite wounds on her arms and shoulder. Harry was distracted from helping Prongs when she raised a staff above her head, like those shown in depictions of Arthurian magicians. The dog that had been attacking her had been intercepted by yet another monstrosity the cultists had brought forth, some moving mass of molten fire and wrath. The armoured woman needed to step in to aid the hound, seeing as a mouth full of fire would do more harm to the dog than the monster, but that meant that no one was marking the blood wielding witch.

Harry was too busy staring into the woman’s eyes to notice that the newcomers were winning. If he had been paying attention he might have seen how a blue light enveloped them when they were injured, knitting their wounds back together, giving them a strong advantage over the cultists, only three of which remained; including the woman. She was looking at him as if he held all the answers, almost like how he remembered some of his more fanatic followers would look at him. She seemed so slight and fragile, and something made him want to protect her, save her-

But this magic she used was beyond dark. The bodies, the monsters, the sense of sickness in the air; all this was her and her companions doing. Something about everything was wrong, and Harry had to keep a sense of himself, keep his head in this insanity. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he entered a duelling pose. Seeing no wand to disarm, Harry cast a _flipendo_ directly at her, beginning a trade of spells.

Fire, stone, and spells he’d never seen before flung themselves upon his shields, occasional shards and blasts managing to slip through his defences and glance his person. Harry felt as if something was tugging at his blood, at his mind. He could feel blood been drawn out of nicks and cuts on his body, like thread being pulled from stiches, burning white hot. Where his blood, winding through the air in front of him, reached her spells they exploded with bursts of power. Yet, for every spell she cast, he flung another back, raising the offensive each time. Even still, she didn’t seem to notice when a curse or hex hit her, or when another crossbow bolt sank into her. With each new wound, her fight only grew more frantic and powerful.

_We’re on your side. We called you for help. Why won’t you help?_

The battle was still happening around them, even though Harry and the dark witch only had eyes for each other. Prongs had faded away at some point, either from Harry being unable to sustain him or the Patronus was actually susceptible to falling in battle. He hoped with cold fear that it was the former. Only one other cultist remained, but monsters still tore at the other group- the dog had retreated to a defensive stance next to the armoured woman, both splattered with blood. For all that any of this made sense, the other group now seemed to have a blue glowing figure fighting with them. With the enemy numbers reduced, the fight wouldn’t last long. While he couldn’t spare any attention to count how many the other team still boasted, he was confident the remaining cultist and monsters would follow their fallen comrades soon.

_Can’t you see how they hunt us down, persecute us, slaughter us? Help us! Save us!_

“Get out of my head!” Harry’s mind was beginning to fog, his head aching like it was about to split. It was like this woman was using an imperious curse, wrapping her will around his. The feeling abruptly ended when a bolt struck true- piercing her skull from behind. Finally she crumpled, with the stolen blood caught in a tempest around her, feeding the monstrosities with one final burst of power. Her dead eyes stared at Harry, betrayed. Harry didn’t spare any time before moving to help the others finish off the remaining monsters, the other cultist having already fallen at some point, even as the eyes haunted him and his blood felt unnaturally chilled.

As the last shadow faded back into the darkness, the battle ceased. The silence was almost as loud as the turmoil of sound was before, and Harry fought the urge to be sick. He had no idea what was happening, where he was, who these people were or what they wanted from him. When the armoured woman stepped towards him, bloodied and blade still drawn, Harry aimed his wand at her.

“Easy now- strange way to repay someone who just saved your life. We just want some answers.” The woman seemed curious about his wand, but had obviously seen what Harry was capable of with it during the battle and wasn’t going to take any chances. Neither were the rest of the group it seemed. The blur of blue light he’d seen previously in the battle turned out to be a man, if he was even human, who was dressed and armed similarly to the cultists. As was the dark haired young woman standing next to the armoured woman- Harry thought they might be related. And then there was a short, stocky man with something that might have been a crossbow, but now seemed to be a weapon of its own design. As the group was obviously using the opportunity to examine him, Harry did the same and tried to figure out as much as possible about who he was dealing with here.

These people knew about magic, although it was no magic Harry was familiar with. Their witches and wizards used staves or their hands, as if wandless magic was no effort to them. They looked like people from a fantasy movie, and had Harry not come from a magical community, he’d doubt his senses. Still, he knew of no wizarding communities that had muggles among them, which was the only explanation Harry’s befuddled mind could come up with for non-magical people who used medieval equipment and knew about magic.

“Hawke, be careful. The way that blood mage was speaking, it sounds like he made a contract with a demon to gain new magic.” Harry glanced sharply at the ginger-blond wizard. Hard eyes met his, the blue glow sparking in them again. Harry frowned; People kept mentioning demons. At least the blood mage part seemed pretty self-explanatory, even if Harry had never seen people use blood as a component quiet like that before.  
  
“Or he may be a victim in all of this- you saw how they turned on him, they may have been using him as a vessel against his will.” The witch this time spoke up, looking towards the armoured woman, and Harry had an uncomfortable feeling that whether or not he ended up in another fight was up to the decision this woman, Hawke, made. Harry wasn’t sure if he could hold his own against their numbers or unknown skills, especially after he’d seen them in action. In the best case scenario, he could stun and take down a few of them before trying to escape.

Hawke seemed to be considering her companions words carefully. Harry could practically see her thinking it over, as guarded eyes appraised Harry. The others stood behind her, apparently ready to back her up either way. It was clear enough who led the ragtag group.

Harry wasn’t about to let his fate be decided without any of his say in the matter.

“Right, look- You have questions, so do I. We can trade. You ask, I answer. I ask, you answer. No need for another fight.” Harry lowered his wand, hoping that whoever this group were, they preferred diplomacy.

He let Hawke decide who to go first, and after a moment of thinking it over, the warrior asked her first question.

“What happened here?” The obvious question, and one Harry wanted to ask himself. He was still having difficulty even remembering how he ended up here.

“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me. I woke up, disorientated, with these… people asking me questions and getting upset. Then your group came along and everything erupted into blood, chaos and bloody monsters.”

“Could be he’s telling the truth. And Sunshine was right, the one I shot over there _was_ about to set him on fire.” The short crossbow-man spoke up, and while Harry wasn’t sure why the man trusted him to be truthful, Hawke seemed to trust his judgement.

“My turn,” Harry cut in before anyone else spoke, “Where am I?”

“The sewers beneath Darktown.” At Harry’s confused look, Hawke seemed to be more sympathetic, “In Kirkwall?” At Harry’s apparent lack of recognition and increasing panic, Hawke shook her head with a disbelieving smile, sympathy turning into suspicion.

Harry took a breath, trying to connect the pieces and find a rational explanation. It might be possible this spell, and it had to of been a spell, took him further away from Britain than he first thought. Did some of their accents sound vaguely American? He couldn’t tell. He had no idea what the magical community in America was like. No matter what actually happened and where he was now, Hawke apparently thought Harry’s confusion was an act of some sort, wearing the sharp amusement of someone having caught someone else lying.

“How is it you don’t know where Kirkwall is, let alone how you ended up in it? Forgive me if that seems a bit unbelievable.” She tilted the blade slightly, drawing attention to the fact she hadn’t sheathed it, “Should I have specified that we had to remain truthful in this round of questions and answers?”

“Last I remember I was in London, England.” Harry decided to clarify England, because he knew there were multiple cities called London, and it wouldn’t be entirely impossible for magic to have thrown him to another county, like America, or where ever this ‘Kirkwall’ was. However, at Hawke’s blank look, Harry felt himself pale and look around again, lost. The strange magic, people, creatures, names- almost nothing was familiar. Harry had encountered the unfamiliar before, when he was eleven years odd and brought by a half-giant with a pink umbrella into the world of wizardry, but this wasn’t anything like that.

Harry stepped away and turned back to the circle, ignoring the strewn bodies ( _and there were so many bodies),_ trying to figure out what had happened. The woman said she’d brought him here…

“…From beyond the fade. What did she mean? What did she mean when she said I was brought here from beyond the fade?”

“Looks like trading’s over.” The short man commented wryly, but there was a sense of caution in his words. Harry didn’t feel like playing along with the game any longer, and tightened his grip on his wand. The others didn’t seem to like what they heard either.

“She said that to you? That she brought you from beyond the fade? That’s impossible.” The wizard had stepped forward, blue lines spreading across his skin in what Harry thought was similar to the strange woman’s magic, “It would explain why they needed to use so much blood, if that is what they were trying- who are you? What are you?!” The man almost seemed to erupt, leading from one train of thought into angry questions, short temper exploding into blue light.

“Anders.”

Hawke had held out a hand, resting it on the wizard’s, Anders, shoulder, and that seemed enough to dim the glow shining through the man’s eyes, skin and even clothes. Harry, not for the first, nor likely the last time, wondered what the hell he’d gotten involved in.

“Hawke, this man is probably possessed and an abomination waiting to erupt-“Anders jabbed his staff in Harry’s direction, making the British wizard grit his teeth in frustration, “I’ve never seen magic like his before. But it wouldn’t be the first time I saw a mage make a pact with a demon for arcane knowledge, or shove a demon into another’s body.”

“I didn’t make a pact with any damned demon! What the hell are all you people, religious nut jobs? Did I get abducted by, what- _Satanists_?” Harry snapped out, and the hound by Hawke’s side growled back. Harry’s vision was growing weak again. Whatever had happened to bring him here had drained him and the fight with the cultist hadn’t helped. _So much for this group being his chance of escape._

“Heh, calling the group with a dwarf, two apostates and the woman hiding them ‘religious nut jobs’- you really _are_ out of it.” The man who hadn’t been named yet chuckled, and seemed to be the only one not looking actively on guard.

“Satanists?” The girl asked, looking to Hawke. Hawke just shook her head with a ‘ _who knows?’_ look and turned to Anders.

“You could tell if he really was possessed, couldn’t you?”

“Sure. Like this.”

Anders flung his hand out, and Harry wasn’t quick enough to conjure a shield to block the wave of light that slammed into him, turning everything to black.

* * *

The second time Harry woke up disorientated, it was only his head that ached and he was laying on something softer than blood dampened dirt. The air smelt strongly of herbal medicines, which almost covered up the pungent smell of tar, smog, and sea. Harry would have rubbed his nose had his wrists not been restrained. After a quick test, it felt like his ankles had received the same treatment. At least he still had his glasses and clothes on, which was a small mercy, although his pockets and holster felt suspiciously empty.

Wonderful. This day kept getting better and better- presuming it was the same day, which was a worrying thought. At this point in time he should have been returning home to Ginny, after putting old spirits to rest.

That was…  
The thought with a start recalled what Harry had been doing before. He’d been back at the Department of Mysteries, standing in front of The Veil. It had been four years since his death, and two since the war ended. He felt embarrassed by the need to return, to seek closure for Sirius’ death all those years ago. Hermione had assured him it would help him move on with his new life, and that is was natural for him to grieve again, now that they were no longer stuck in the survival mentality of war and the mind now had the luxury of torturing itself with old memories. He’d visited Cedric’s grave annually since the war ended, but Sirius’ grave had felt empty. Getting access to The Veil had taken a few strings to be pulled, but he felt it would be worth it.

But something had gone wrong. The voices behind the curtain went from whispers to chants, and Harry had felt himself being torn through, like a port key gone wrong. It was another piece to the puzzle of how he got here, and a worrying piece. If he’d fallen through The Veil, he should be dead and Harry knew what being dead felt like and this place certainly didn’t seem like any version of the afterlife he knew. Shoving his growing unease aside, Harry went back to figuring out how to escape his current situation and would question reality later.

He was on a small makeshift cot, so he could probably easily escape his bindings by breaking the frail frame providing no one stopped him, which was unlikely as he could hear people nearby. It sounded like no one noticed he was awake yet, at least. That was likely to do with the fact his cot was partially hidden behind a pillar of stone, that had a large writing desk at its base, and the faint sounds of conversation were happening on the other side of it all. If he had to guess, he’d say that they could just see his feet around the desk, but not his face or the rest of him. Taking the chance to look around, Harry wasn’t hugely impressed. It was a large single room, that looked like it had been roughly carved from a single stone or cliff, scattered with cots similar to the one he was on, and what might have been a crude surgery table, stained with all sorts of fluids. Harry grimaced at the state of it. No light filtered through the windows, but there was a breeze that gently stirred red cloth banners that spread across the ceiling, so Harry presumed they weren’t underground like the tunnels before appeared to be.

This was likely this… _place’s_ version of a hospital, Harry thought. He had a sinking feeling it wasn’t just that he’d been flung a vast distance away from the U.K- but he didn’t want to think about that right now. Instead, he was going to take advantage of being able to overhear whoever was talking, and try to escape without being noticed. He’d cross the next metaphorical bridge to getting home when he found it.

“Hawke, it just doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing beyond the fade, unless you buy into the chantry talk about the void. He’s probably some spirit or demon, that they managed to drag through and stick in some poor sod’s body.” That was the light-up wizard, Anders, if Harry had placed the voice correctly.

The reminder of the previous events only made the reality of the situation weigh even more heavily on Harry. Right. He needed to find out what this ‘fade’ was, and why everyone thought he was a demon, and how it was all relevant to the event that brought him here- and of course where ‘here’ was. After that, it was figuring out what the so called ‘blood mages’ had done, and reverse it.

Flashes of the bodies with slit throats came to mind, and Harry remembered there was a reason why the cultists had been dubbed blood mages. Perhaps ‘reverse’ wasn’t the best word to use. He could only hope the solution didn’t require the same methods as the cause. He continued the push and pull of his restraints, trying to feel for the best way to break them without causing noise.

“Could he be someone from the fade? You get that don’t you? People who have lost themselves to dreams, and never wake up. With the amount of blood they used, couldn’t they have dragged someone’s lost soul back through, into someone else’s body? Or even remake the soul’s body?” That was Hawke, the female warrior with the big sword and bigger dog.

Harry was finding he understood less and less the more he listened. The fade was beginning to sound like the afterlife. Maybe… he had been standing in front of the Veil. No one had been able to figure out what was behind it yet, only that no one came back. However, there _were_ theories that it was a gateway to the other-side; the afterlife. But Harry had already decided this wasn’t the afterlife, and he wasn’t dead, so there was more to it than that.

“The amount of energy that would take… _Andraste damn blood mages_.” Anders again, Harry thought as his wrist began to chafe. The restraints were beginning to feel looser at least.

“It would explain his… confusion, wouldn’t it? A soul lost to the fade wouldn’t be the most... coherent in mind.” That was the witch. Harry couldn’t remember if anyone had said her name.

Harry refocused on getting free, seeing as the conversation he was listening to was going nowhere, or at least nowhere he understood. The frame of the cot really was flimsy, but he wasn’t sure about how to break it without causing noise.  He couldn’t sense his wand anywhere, and a frightening thought gripped his mind, worrying that he’d dropped it in the sewers and they left it there. How was he supposed to find it again? Hopefully they had brought it with them, although that still meant he needed to find it before sneaking out of here.

The soft pad of feet drew his attention away from his restraints and the dog that was bigger and bulkier than Fang began to sniff at his head and bark excitedly, having made his way behind Harry without him noticing.

“No, no, shhh, bad dog, don’t-” Harry trailed off with a sigh as the conversation went quiet and another figure came round the pillar. Harry was surprised to see it was the unnamed man who walked into view, and not Hawke. Especially as he hadn’t heard the man contribute to the previous conversation.  At least this time he lacked the crossbow that was nearly as big as him, although he was carrying what looked like a small stool. That had to be a good sign, right?

“Evening. Don’t mind the dog- he’s just an over grown rabbit that hunts blood mages for sport. Name’s Varric, by the way.” The stocky man smiled disarmingly, and nodded to the cot Harry was restrained to, “We weren’t expecting you to be a wilting flower after we saw you take on that blood mage.”

Harry watched the man as he settled himself down onto the stool, by the head of the cot, shooing the dog out of the way. The canine only repositioned itself on the other side of the cot, pressing itself up between the stone pillar and Harry, still sniffing away at him. Harry didn’t like this situation at all, but he supposed all he could do now is argue his case.

“Harry. And I wasn’t expecting to have to fight a blood mage. Where am I now? Still Kirkwall?”

“Yep. Still cheery old Kirkwall. Where was it you said you were from again? Your accent sounds Ferelden.”

“I’m from England, Britain. Or the United Kingdom. Take your pick.” Harry hadn’t heard of Ferelden, but from Hawke’s earlier reaction he guessed the woman wasn’t familiar with England either. He was beginning to feel like he stumbled through the looking glass, or a magic wardrobe, like in those stories Hermione loved, “So, what’s going to happen now?”

“Well our marvellous friend and leader is talking about that now. We’d been given a lead on those blood mages, and offered a reward if we could track them down- The Chantry doesn’t take kindly to organised apostates kidnapping folk. But, we weren’t expecting to deal with disorientated fade travellers, so you’re an unexpected variable.”

Yet more terms Harry couldn’t place. The Chantry sounded religious, and apparently felt it was its duty to chase down blood mages- and the idea of magic being involved with religion made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. Harry might have put it down to rival religious factions, but he wasn’t sure that was the case. He still wasn’t sure what ‘apostates’ meant. He vaguely remembered the man saying it before, but couldn’t remember who it was referring to.  He had no idea what the politics were between these factions.

“ _Can’t you see how they hunt us down, persecute us, slaughter us?”_ The woman’s words echoed in his head. Whatever was going on here, it wasn’t clear cut.

“You seem a lot calmer now.” Varric spoke again when Harry didn’t, and Harry blinked out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, well, panicking is a lot less fun when tied to a bed. Can’t get a good flail going. And maybe the nap did me some good.” Harry offered a half-hearted smile and restricted shrug, before licking his lips and asking, “ Who were they- the blood mages? What were they doing?”

“See you have some sense of humour, Specs. Well, we found some notes on our dearly departed resident blood mages. I can’t make heads or tails out of the crazy, but our own fade-intimate mage thinks they were attempting to summon a being from a plane beyond the fade. Now, I wouldn’t know much about the fade to begin with, but I’m fairly sure there’s not meant to be another plane beyond it.”

Harry fell silent again, looking up at the dirty stone ceiling with its strange draping red cloth, and tried to ignore the dog that was sniffing his face enthusiastically. ‘ _A plane beyond the fade’_. If the theory he was forming was right, and this _was_ another world, then that could mean these mages had dragged him from his world, through this fade or afterlife, and into this one. And he was indeed beginning to think this was another world, or something like that, and not merely a magical relocation to some isolated mixed wizard-and-muggle civilisation. Harry was keenly aware everything that was being said was also heard by the others and that Varric was likely sent in to talk to him alone to avoid stressing him out. Harry was uncertain if he should be openly truthful about his situation or try and pretend he was part of this world somehow, but if Varric was laying ‘good auror’ then he’d be the best bet to see which option would play out better.

“You keep mentioning the ‘fade’. What do you mean?” When Harry turned to face Varric again, he was met with an appraising look.

“The dream world? The world of spirits and demons separated from ours by the veil?” Varric’s tone suggested the answer should be obvious and Harry realised then and there he’d be unable to pretend to be from this world,  

“Veil?” As Varric looked like he was about to ask why Harry didn’t know about that either, judging by the expression on his face, Harry continued quickly “I was pulled through what we call The Veil on our side. I have no idea what this fade is, but we don’t really know what’s on the other side of the veil either. But what I do know, is that this isn’t my world. It can’t be.”

Varric looked like he was about to ask something when Anders suddenly appeared around the pillar and stood at the foot of the cot, frowning at Harry.

“You really expect us to believe you’re from another world? Another plane of existence?” Anders frown was matched by Harry’s own. _Well, looks like the truth won’t be easy either._

Varric seemed to take Anders’ intrusion in his stride, “Blondie, meet Specs. Specs this is Blondie. Alternatively you can call each other Harry and Anders- I’m sure you can figure out who’s who. Seeing as Specs has passed the demon test, we might opt to have this conversation in a bit more comfort.”

At this Hawke and the witch, or female mage, or whatever they call magic users here, came in, and Harry might have felt far too vulnerable had Hawke not undone the bindings. Now free to move, Harry sat up and rubbed his wrist, watching as the dog backed around to Hawke, disappointed that he could no longer investigate Harry’s face. None of the others had brought stools with them, and Harry still felt uncomfortable pinned in by the three additional people standing around him.

“You keep talking about demons as well. Why do you- or did you- think I was a demon? I’d always thought they were... religious superstition.” Harry addressed his question to Varric, but it was Hawke who answered.

“Did those rage demons and shades you saw back in the sewers seem like superstition to you?” Hawke’s voice was edged with a teasing note, but her expression bordered on reproving. Harry just felt shocked. Demons referred to those monsters he’d fought in the sewers? The ones made out of twisted shadow and fire? And they could be _inside_ people?

“Some demons are able to hide inside someone, emerging only when threatened. That’s why Anders tried to spook you with that blast. It wasn’t meant to harm you, just trick any demon into trying to defend itself…” The girl gave him an apologetic smile, but Harry was still pale from the idea of one of those things being inside him.

“Am I the only one around here with any manners? Harry, Sunshine here is called Bethany. Hawke’s first name is Marian, but we all call her Hawke.” Varric chided the others, but Anders was still frowning at Harry.

“How could you not know about demons? I saw you use magic, strange magic as well. How could you possibly have survived this long without knowing about the danger? Where did you even learn those spells?”

Harry felt like this was yet another ‘cultural’ difference he hadn’t quite grasped yet. Apparently in this place, demons and magic go hand in hand. It reminded him of the old muggle tales about people selling their souls for witchcraft, and making contracts with demons. The fact that everything in this world seemed almost similar, almost familiar, was almost making the situation worse.

“Look, you said you had the notes? Do they say anything about how to reverse the spell? Send me back?”

Anders scoffed, “I have no idea how they even managed to get enough power to pull whatever you are through- not that I believe you are from some other world, or that you’re even from the fade. Maybe some hedge-mage dragged from the back waters of Ferelden who traded with demons and spirits for knowledge. But dragging demons out and putting people in are entirely different things. If it took the magisters of the old Tevinter Imperium a fortune in slaves and lyrium to cross into the fade, you have no hope of crossing ‘beyond’ it.”

Harry didn’t fully understand what was being said, but he got the gist of it. Anders didn’t believe he was from another world, because it shouldn’t have been possible to do it in the first place. And if ‘taking someone out’ of this fade takes less than ‘putting someone in’, then it seemed Harry was stuck.

“You don’t understand. I have to get back. I have a pregnant wife at home; I’m not abandoning her because some crazed wi- mages dragged me into their world’s affairs.”

From the corner of Harry’s eye, he caught Hawke glancing between Harry and Anders, watching them both carefully. Anders face seemed to soften, even though the set of his jaw implied he still didn’t want to admit to believing Harry’s story. Harry was broken out of his glaring contest with the other wizard, when the dog whined and began licking his face, having to half-stand on Harry’s lap to do so.  Maybe the dog was responding to Harry’s distress and trying to calm him, but all it resulted in was Harry letting out an undignified splutter, breaking the tension between him and Anders.

“Look, Harry. If what you’re saying is true, then I’m truly sorry.” Hawke said as she pulled the dog back, scratching its ears generously. Harry stared at his lap for a moment, before turning a determined look on Hawke.

“I have gold. And I have my own skills. And so far you’re the only people I know here and you seem capable enough. If you help me find a way home, I will pay you for your help- and until then I’ll repay the favour by working with you. You’re bounty hunters? Mercenaries? You’ve seen me fight. And that’s after I was dragged across worlds and forced against enemies I’ve never encountered before.”

Harry met Hawke’s eyes, gaze steeled. He wasn’t about to give up and let this world claim him. If he had to figured out how to survive in this strange, backward world, until then, then so be it. Hawke glanced over to Varric who nodded his head, before turning back to Harry.

“Guess having a trick mage up our sleeve might have some benefits. You’re going to have to find a place yourself though.” Hawke gave Harry another once over, and Harry wished he was skilled enough at legilimency to see what thoughts were being put together behind those eyes. Whatever they were, Marian Hawke met his eyes and gave an assenting nod.

Harry returned it with a sharp grin and held out his hand. Hawke stared at it for a moment, before grasping his forearm and shaking it. Harry just gripped the woman’s arm back and rolled with it.

“Deal. Now where’s my bloody wand?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (And another stupidly long AN. The other notes shouldn’t be long as this, I promise.)  
> If anyone is interested in Beta-reading this for me, I’d love your help and suggestions! Hawke is based mostly on the ‘charming’ and ‘diplomatic’ personalities. My suggestion is you shouldn’t think of this Hawke as your Hawke or even my Hawke. She’s just ‘a Hawke’. However, I have tried to leave descriptions of her vague enough that you can imagine your ideal female Hawke. I tried to do the same with Beth, but expect her descriptions to favour ‘primary setting’ Beth.
> 
> I don’t want to give too much info outside of the story, because that feels like cheating, but here’s some data just to get an idea of things:  
> Harry is 20. I played with what age I wanted Harry to be for ages. If I made him older, he’d be a more experienced, level headed auror, with a family. That would let me be a little more creative with his skills, and attitudes. However, the younger Harry is the one we all love and are familiar with, and there would be less risk of me going OOC. So I went in between, and fibbed with the dates slightly.  
> Ages at 9:31 (Act 1):  
> • Hawke: 25 (Which is their canon age at the start of act 1)  
> • Bethany: 20 (“””)  
> • Varric: 31 (“””)  
> • Anders: ~~22~~ 29 ( **Edit** : I reread World of Thedas Vol.2, and it says Anders was taken to the circle at the age of twelve, and then later notes when he joined the wardens that it'd taken him 'nearly two decades to escape the circle' implying he's 27-31 in Awakenings.)  
>  • Fenris: 25ish (He wouldn’t know himself. Winner of Darius’ competition at 16-20?, slave a few years 19-23?, on run for three years; 21-27?)  
> • Merril: 21 (At least 19, as she would have had her Vallasin at 18ish during 9:29-30. She acts pretty young, but that might just be Merril.)  
> • Isabela: 31 (sold at 18/19 escaped at 20, Became Isabela 20/21, captained 10 years?)  
> • Aveline: 26 (Just a guess. I imagine her being around the same age as Hawke.)  
> • Sebastian: 24 (Again, just a guess. He’d be at least 28 in act 3 from game sources)


	2. You're an eyas, Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, Harry’s and other characters’ views do not necessarily reflect my own view. Characters have strong opinions on certain subjects or might be completely uninterested in them. Characters might not like each other at the start and may misunderstand each other. Don’t take this as me ‘bashing’ on any characters. I honestly love them all as characters, and like many of them as ‘people’, but all of them are deliberately flawed and represent an array of opinions.

Anders had been happy enough to see Harry leave his clinic, albeit a bit reluctant to return Harry’s wand and the other belongings taken from Harry’s pockets, including his mokeskin and house keys. The man obviously had questions he wanted to ask as well, but for one reason or another had bit them back. Marian and Bethany Hawke, who Harry had found out were indeed sisters, had left to return to their own home, with a promise from ‘Hawke’ Hawke to discuss business and arrangements later, after Harry had chance to rest properly and get orientated. Varric had offered to show him where he could get a bed, which was in the same inn Varric had set up near permanent residence in- until this expedition he was planning paid off anyway.

“So you and Hawke are going to go into a tunnel filled with strange tainted monsters, and bringing Anders along with you?” Harry raised a brow as he walked along with the shorter man, occasionally taking quick observations of the area as they went, taking in as much detail as the sparse torches allowed in the night. They’d left the stinking and dark area aptly named ‘Darktown’ via a lift, and were now in a maze-like area known as ‘Lowtown’, which all appeared to be carved from the same single rock as Anders’ clinic had been. This world seemed stuck in the dark ages, and Harry had a feeling the whole place was probably one big nocturne alley.

“Ah, Blondie isn’t so bad.” Varric seemed to have picked up on some incredulous tone in Harry’s voice, giving him a knowing smile, “He’s just passionate about mages and magic. Now he knows you’re not a demon with a pretty mask, he’ll warm up to you- It’s the elf you’ll need to watch out for.”

“Elf?” Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this world had its own demented version of Kreacher, and pulled a face at the thought. Varric noticed, expression shifting to barely hidden disapproval.

“You don’t like elves, I take it?”

“What? No- I mean- no, as in, I like elves just fine. I’ve just had some bad experiences with them- not that I’m generalising, I’ve also had a house elf save my life. I don’t- I like elves.” Harry flustered, and Varric seemed amused, if still disapproving for one reason or another. Harry felt that was fair enough, as he’d rather stuck his foot in it there. He wanted to try and explain that the idea of an elf having a problem with him was one he was familiar with, thanks to Kreacher, and that’s what he was put off by. Harry really did like house elves, thinking the little people were some of the best people, but now everything he said would sound like overly defensive protests.

“Well, Fenris has a problem with mages, especially ‘odd’ ones like yourself. However if Hawke vouches for you, Elf will probably leave you be. He has an honor-debt-thing going, and hasn’t tried shanking Blondie yet, but it’ only been a couple of weeks, so there’s time yet.”

“He’s had... bad experiences I take it.” Harry thought back to Dobby and the Malfoys, to Kreacher and the wall of mounted heads. He wouldn’t be surprised if a house elf grew a grudge against wizards. However, it still seemed odd that the group had a house elf. They didn’t seem the upper class sort or people to live in a house that ‘had’ a house elf. If that’s even how things worked in this world. For all Harry knew elves never developed that strange relationship they had with wizards in his world. He’d never truly understood how that had happened anyway.

“An ex-Tevinter Slave; Tevinter is a country ruled by mages.” Varric explained, and it somehow comforted Harry that Varric believed his story enough that he was putting in the effort to explain details of this ‘world’, even if he was wearing a small amused smile while doing so, “Still allows blood magic and slavery. Elf is a fugitive on the run. Makes for a broody, romantic figure in any tale. He’s also part of our motley group, along with Rivaini. She’s also boarding at the Hanged Man, so we’ll all be neighbours. Providing you get a bed of course, but there’s usually a few spare. ”

Harry was beginning to figure Fenris probably wasn’t a house elf then, unless this world had house elves as romantic interests. Although honestly, that wouldn’t surprise him too much, with the way things were developing. Harry suddenly had the sinking feeling he’d embarrassingly been misunderstanding a lot of things.

“Quite the group you’ve collected.” Harry offered, keeping the conversation going even as he was distracted by his own thoughts.

“I’m blaming Hawke for it. She can’t say no to strays. We’ve also got the beautiful Aveline, the soon to be Captain of the guard, but she’s been with Hawke even longer than I have. Altogether we’ve got an apostate, an abomination, a dwarf, a fugitive, a pirate, a to-be guard captain and Hawke. And now you.” Varric paused, looking at Harry again, seemingly not sure how to describe him.  
   
“So…” Varric hesitated slightly “What were, or are you, in your ‘world’?”

Harry almost sighed at what Varric wasn’t saying. It was obvious by the way he asked the question he still didn’t fully believe Harry’s story either, but was going along with it. Harry didn’t answer for a moment, looking at the path ahead. They were beginning to get close to the inn. Harry could tell because its ‘sign’ was a large painted wood carving of an upside down hanged man. It was even hung from a chain for accuracy. Combined with the lifeless carved walls, and spiked ledges, this city was beginning to give him a feel of a nightmare.

“I’m… An Auror. It’s like a guard for witches and wizards- or mages, as you’d call them.” Technically, Harry was still in the training phase, although his involvement in the Wizarding War had sped up his advancement quite a bit, so he did his training out in the field.

They had reached the inn, and as Varric stopped to open the door, he gave Harry a curious look, “A guard for mages? As in ‘hunt down all wild mages and stick them in a circle’ guard or a ‘protect mages from the people with pitchforks’ guard?”

“Uh, more ‘guard’ guard? I chase down criminals and dark magic users. ‘Mages’ and ‘non-mages’ in my world live in separate communities. In fact muggles, ah, _non-mages_ , don’t even know about magic. I’m finding it a little odd that this world is so... open.” Harry wasn’t really sure what Varric meant by putting witches and wizards in a circle, and brushed it off as another term he’d learn about later. It was rather strange for Harry to talk about his life and world like this, as most people who didn’t know such things _shouldn’t_ know such things.

“Oh wow. Specs, you have got to tell Blondie about this world of yours. Or maybe not- he’ll never shut up about it. But that whole ‘open about magic’ thing? Not quite. Let me sit you down and teach you about the world, young Harry.”

 Varric’s intended lesson was postponed while they got the business of Harry’s accommodation sorted out first. It also turned out ‘Rivaini’, or Isabela as she was properly known, wasn’t about just yet, and was likely out ‘doing piratey things’. Harry also stopped Varric to check about legal tender and if gold coins were gold coins regardless of what was printed on them. Varric took a look at his galleons, and stated that gold was gold, but Harry might want to find some silver and copper instead, to avoid unwanted interest. Harry luckily had a few knuts and sickles on him too, but had been hoping to get more change somehow. Harry also realised that he was going to have to figure out a source of income if he was stuck here for too long, as the change he carried in his mokeskin wasn’t going to last.

Hopefully he wasn’t going to be stuck here long.

Harry was in luck that there was an available bed, although he didn’t really consider himself lucky upon seeing it. It turned out only Varric could afford to buy out an entire room to himself, being such a long-time and valued patron, and all the other rooms were closer to the hostels of the modern world, meaning Harry was sharing sleeping space with strangers. On top of that, the whole inn had a feeling of someone had stuck cardboard and plywood together and thrown sand about, with the added touch of morbid décor.

“So, Kirkwall really has a thing for dark and gloomy, doesn’t it. Are the corpse-people really necessary?” Harry gestured to one of the painted figures on the wall. It was some kind of stylised rendition of a half-naked, starving man, eyes empty and mouth gritted in silent agony.

“Ah, it’s not called the City of Chains for nothing. Used to be the heart of the Imperium slave trade. The magister’s had the idea that demotivational murals made for better slaves. Or maybe the slaves needed to express themselves through art? Who knows…” The man looked around then nodded, a wry smile on his face, “One day, I’m going to buy this tavern.”

When Harry raised an eyebrow at him, Varric just shrugged, “Hey, a dwarf’s got to dream. And this place has grown on me. Now, seeing as you’ve finished moving in already, what with having no belongings with you- which we shall remedy- you’ve got to come over to mine and swap stories.”

So Varric did have dwarfism. Or his race was ‘dwarf’. He’d mentioned it a few times before, but Harry hadn’t really been paying attention or applied the term to Varric before. Harry had seen dwarves before, remembering the time at Hogwarts when Lockhart managed to get a gaggle of them to dress as cupids for Valentines, but the only similarity between them was ‘short and stocky’. Varric didn’t even have a beard or giant nose. Harry really needed to check these things before he ended up sticking his foot in his mouth- even more than he may have done already. In all likelihood, the woman who had summoned him probably wasn’t human at all either, but if Harry could deal with goblins, centaurs, mermaids and giants, he could deal with whatever new creatures and races this world threw at him.

Varric’s room had far more charm to it. Harry presumed he’d had most of the furniture moved in, and part of the room done up, which was in keeping with how long the man said he had lived there and was planning to live there for. The barmaid, Nora, even brought their order to them. Harry felt himself let his guard lower, which he hadn’t done since he’d arrived.

Although that might also have had something to do with the way Varric seemed to be able to charm the feathers from a phoenix. Harry didn’t want to share his life story and didn’t mention the war, or his role in it, or Voldemort, but he didn’t feel like Varric was asking for that. Instead, he shared stories about pranks, school day shenanigans, odd stories from his job, general facts about the wizarding world, Britain and his world in general- and Varric gave back as good as he got or better, being a natural story teller.

 

“I’m not kidding! This was honestly a sport for teenagers- but you haven’t lived till you’re hurtling through the sky, with nothing to stop you…”

 

“And Anders kicked down the door, ablaze with blue light, roaring “ _You will not hurt them_!”. The scoundrels inside froze with fear and dropped their hostages, but weren’t quick enough to escape the mage’s wrath. But the instant the battle was over, the gentle healer replaced the vengeful spirit, and the kittens were rescued from their intended watery grave…”

 

“Draco was a real piece of work. He’s gotten better since, but back then… But it was glorious. Absolutely glorious. Hermione had him against the wall, wand to his throat, he’s whimpering and begging and she just lets him go- Malfoy laughed as if he had just called her bluff and _thwak!_  I could replay that memory over and over… _”_

 

“No shit, there I was, at the grand ball, watching this noble chat non-stop to my brother, and Bartrand’s face is getting redder and redder, and he starts doing this little dance. He keeps making to step away, but she just drags him back to discuss how devastating it was the servants towel dried rather than air dried her pedigree mutts- then this dark patch begins to spread across his groin and all I could do was stare- and let me tell you, no one wants to end up staring at their brother’s groin. And this Orlesian, wearing this ridiculous feather gown, collapses dramatically, because she just saw a dwarf piss himself, and in all the commotion, no one noticed Bartrand dive under the table…”

“-Well, whose the new guy, Varric?” The amused voice that interrupted their story swapping belonged to a stunning dark-featured woman, who had slipped into the room unnoticed, taking a seat as if it was her room they were in. “Sounds like you two are having fun. No one thought to invite me? I was listening to yet another drunk wax lyrical about my ‘divine features’, waiting for you to swoop in and rescue me. Apparently I’m like a goddess, only fleshy, but the best kind of fleshy.”

Drawn out of the conversation with Varric, Harry sat back and took a sip from his drink. It was some kind of mild sour ale; not the best drink he’d had but Harry appreciated the liquid all the same. Harry had learnt quite a lot from his banter with Varric. Such as how this world had suffered from something called ‘The blight’ that spawned monsters, and that mages were under constant threat of possession and that the Chantry, a Christian like religion, had ordered all mages to be taken to a ‘Circle’ and taught subservience. Harry was deeply unsettled by it all and was even developing a sense of guilt- he had to focus on getting home and couldn’t afford to be drawn into the problems here, but turning a blind eye to it all left a bad taste in his mouth. He should to get back to Anders and try and get those notes from him as soon as possible- the other magic user had not been willing to let an unknown walk off with notes on blood magic and Hawke had sent him and Varric off before Harry could argue with Anders over it.

Right now, however, his attention was taken by who he suspected was Isabela, or ‘Rivaini’ as Varric called her. The woman obviously had many tales to tell herself and would probably manage to do so with as much charm as Varric. Although that smile of hers hinted she could also run the dwarf under the table with dirty details.

“Ah, Rivaini, didn’t you hear? Swooping is bad. And you don’t quite fit the role for damsel-in-distress I need for my stories. I was thinking of using Anders for that role.” Varric poured her a drink from a bottle that wasn’t on the table before, “This is the newest duckling Hawke added to the collection. Rivaini, this is Harry, Wizard from the Beyond. Specs, this is Isabela, Pirate Queen and Scourge of the Seas.”

Harry frowned quizzically, “Duckling?”

“Hawke likes to gather together lost and interesting souls and take them under her wing. She’s picking them up at an alarming rate. First Anders, then Fenris, then the lovely Isabela, and now  yourself- all within a few weeks...”  Varric shook his head, although he had a slight smile on his face, “So long as it all helps her get the gold needed for the expedition, I can’t complain. Plus, this ragtag group is excellent for making stories.”

“How are you so certain I’m part of your growing group?” Harry asked, leaning back and crossing his arms. It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want to be part of the group, after all it would benefit him vastly to be part of it for now, but it wasn’t like he intended to stay for long. Nor did he feel Hawke knew him well enough to ‘adopt’ him like that. Varric just shrugged with a smile.

“You can just tell with Hawke. And you sealed your fate by offering to work for her. She’s a big mother hen really, and we all follow after her- She’s a natural leader, I’ll give her that. Except for, I don’t think most mother birds lead their brood into bandit infested crime dens.” Varric didn’t seem to mind putting himself under the category of follower, but Harry had a feeling that wasn’t quite the relationship he and Hawke had. From what Varric had said, it sounded like the two had met rather recently and were dependent on each other for success and were more like partners than leader and ‘duckling’.

“Only the fun ones do. I’ll admit I stick around for the fun and coin Hawke seems to finds- not like I have anything better to do without a ship.” Isabela added, but Harry found himself tilting his head in confusion.

“So what does Hawke do exactly? Is she a mercenary that picks up tagalongs?”

Varric shrugged noncommittally, “Hawke’s an... entrepreneur. The Hawke Sisters made a name for themselves in Kirkwall as being people who get things done. When the local guilds tried to smoother all the activity that immigration was bringing, Hawke’s group was the only one that could stand against the Coterie. They made connections, proved themselves capable. A lot of the underworld, along with other organisations, recognise the name Hawke. I made them mine and my brothers partners in this expedition because I could bet my life’s savings that the Hawke Sisters will make it succeed, even if they have to drag the entire expedition kicking and screaming into the deeproads themselves.”

“I haven’t really known her that long, but you can’t stay in Lowtown without hearing about the ‘Hawkes’.” Isabela waved a bored hand, “Haven’t heard about you before though.” Isabela pinned him down with a grin, her golden lip piercing catching the light, and continued cheerfully.

“So, ‘Wizard from the Beyond’. Hawke sure knows how to pick them. A mage I take it?” Isabela asked it casually, as if it didn’t matter, which went against what Varric warned was people’s general reactions to rouge mages. But, perhaps that spoke more about Isabela’s character than Varric’s information, “Where from? Your accent suggests Ferelden, but I hadn’t heard of any place called the ‘Beyond’ or uses the term ‘wizards’ seriously. Shop title?”

Judging by the entertained smile on Varric’s face, he was going to enjoy watching Harry explain himself, and the resulting reactions, at every opportunity he got.

“Uh, not quite. More like: I’m from a country that is a little bit like Ferelden, I think, only from a different world.” Harry nearly winced explaining himself. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do this too many times, as even he didn’t fully believe himself as he said it. It was too fantastical.

Obviously Isabela agreed, as she gave Harry a blank look. After what must have only been seconds, but seemed far longer in the awkward silence, Isabela shared a look with Varric that promised he’d give her a more detailed, more _trustworthy_ , explanation later.

“Well.” Harry rapped the table nervously, “Pirate Queen sounds a lot more interesting. How does one become queen of the pirates, exactly?”

Somehow, Harry got the feeling his obvious change in topic was a bad idea, judging by the suddenly mischievous smile on Isabela’s face. It was almost predatory. His nervousness only seemed to encourage her.

“Pirate Queen’s pop up all over the place- I’m _far_ more interested to hear about a mage from another world. After all different cultures always find different way of… enjoying themselves. I can’t begin to imagine what an entirely new world could come up with.”

Harry had a feeling she wasn’t talking about wizarding past times. He glanced to Varric, who seemed to take pity on him.

“Well, Specs here is a married man, so I imagine he probably won’t have the stories you’re hoping for, Riviani.”

Isabela sighed, “Married men are no fun. Unless they let their wives join in as well.”

Harry felt himself blush, mouth open, torn between flattery, indignation and embarrassment, but Isabela simply continued with a smile.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t call myself a Pirate Queen. Queen’s won’t get their hands dirty. But I did have a ship and a crew that did _very_ well for itself- until that blasted _storm_ destroyed that.” Her tone was light hearted, but there was a fury in her eyes. Harry figured there was more to the story, but was fairly sure it was one Isabela wasn’t going to share tonight. He can’t imagine loosing one’s crew was easy either, though he had no idea how close Isabela would have been with them.

“Still, you have to have a reason to be one of Hawke’s ducklings-“ Isabela paused abruptly and looked to Varric,  “what’s a baby hawk called?”

“Eyas, I think.” Varric offered helpfully, “Not as interesting an image as ducklings being led by a mother-hawk though.”

“Well, I don’t exactly know many people here, and I don’t know how to get back home- yet,” Harry replied, frowning. “Anders’ has some notes that might help me, but he’s keeping a hold of them. Doesn’t trust me, apparently. So, as Hawke is one of the few people I’ve met in this world that hasn’t tried to kill me, I’m hoping she can help me find a way back home.” Harry didn’t want to go into great detail, especially as he suspected Varric was going to share with the others in the group what he’d been told with Isabela later anyway. He was far too tired to explain it all, and there was a lot more to it than what Harry had explained. Plus, the way Isabela raised a brow when he spoke about ‘this world’, just reminded him of how unbelievable the whole situation was.

At least he had something of a plan now. Hawke had enough influence on Anders that Harry hoped Hawke’s approval would encourage Anders to trust him enough to hand over the notes. However, the notes by themselves would likely be insufficient. They seemed to understand magic differently here, and he would be dreadfully lost trying to figure out what and how the blood mages pulled him through by himself. He almost certainly needed Anders’ help- or maybe Bethany’s considering the witch seemed less suspicious of him.

On top of that, Harry needed to _survive._ The image Varric painted of Kirkwall was that it was a harsh place to live, and a strange, naïve magic-user wouldn’t last long at all between its walls. He was depending on these people to act as guides, hoping that they’d keep him alive either out of good will or because he was useful to them. No doubt the process to return him to his world take time, which would mean Harry would also need to take care of more mundane needs: food, shelter, clothing and so on. All of which would take coin.

Either Isabela was a mind reader or money was on her mind. Maybe even always on her mind, if he was judging her character right.

“Stranded here as well? I’d say something about being in the same boat, but that’d be a bit in bad taste. With the Hawkes and Varric squirreling gold away for this expedition, I wouldn’t mind having a mage to help out with a few schemes for myself- Anders has this horrible habit of glowing in the dark.” Isabela leaned forward, all seduction and danger, “How discreet can you be?”

Varric seemed to find something funny, “On top of being married, he’s also a guard. Doing well tonight, Riviani.” Isabela looked disappointed, and intrigued, shooting another look at Varric, but didn’t speak as Harry tilted his head.

 “Depends on what you need me to be discreet on- because I’m _very_ good at hiding, should I need to. And getting past locks. I might be able to extend my magic to hide others as well.”

That was all true. He didn’t have many of his belongings on him, only his silenced sneakoscope coming to mind as potentially useful in this context, but he knew a few good spells. And unless the locks were highly complex or magical in nature, _alohamora_ could deal with them. A few silencing charms and disillusionment spells would help with stealth as well. However, he’d practiced these skills in order to _prevent_ crime. He’d only just met Isabela, and while she didn’t seem like a _bad_ person, he wasn’t sure how altruistic a ‘Pirate Queen’ could be. Still, if she could find use for him in plans that weren’t against his morals, he wasn’t about to turn her down. He needed all the coin and allies he could get while he was here.

“So, I find you jobs that don’t upset your delicate guard’s sensibilities and I get a mage that can make my life easier?” Isabela was practically purring and Harry hoped he hadn’t just signed over his soul somehow.

“Ah, right- sounds like a plan.” At Harry’s stuttered response, Varric chuckled.

“Alright, business can wait till morning. It’s bedtime for Specs. Healer’s orders. Anders made it clear you’re meant to be recovering from crazy blood mages.”

Harry pointedly ignored the ‘bedtime’ comment and gave Varric a confused look, “I honestly didn’t think he cared so much about me.”  
  
“Nah, Blondie’s seems to be something of a softie- under a lot of brooding and angst. But I wouldn’t read too much into it- he’s a rebel with a suicidal cause _and_ a healer, and you’re still his patient, even if he gets all glowy around you.” Varric explained with a shrug.

Isabela just looked intrigued, “Someone’s going to have to tell me what got his knickers in a twist.”

“I’ll let Varric have the pleasure of doing so- I think I’ll take Varric’s ‘advice’, and go test out my bed.” Harry smiled apologetically to Isabela and nodded gratefully to Varric, who raised his drink in acknowledgement, before getting up to leave.

“Fine, but we’re going to have to get to know each other better if we’ll be working together!” Isabela called after him.

Harry just made an amused sound in response, making his way next door. Of course, he didn’t intend on going to bed before he got a few things sorted; such as a few cleaning charms, one or two cushioning charms, a selection of wards to give him more privacy…

It turned out he was in the room across from the one where Isabela and a few of her surviving crew were staying. He found this out when Isabela poked her head into his room as he was finishing off some of his charms and told him as such in case he ‘needed’ them. Harry had gotten the idea that she’d lost her entire crew, but apparently a few had washed ashore after her. In his own shared room, Harry had picked the top bunk on the three-tiered beds with the best location and hoped no one tried messing with him. Upon casting a few wards, Harry discovered his magic still felt strange, as if it was catching on something, but at the same time felt almost empowered. He’d have to investigate that further later. He wasn’t nearly satisfied with the security by the time he crashed on the bed, but he was too exhausted to care.  Not even about the fact he had no change of clothes in which to sleep in. Or really any belongings for that matter. What mattered right now was that he was on a reasonably soft horizontal surface, with wards, and at least two people nearby who would _probably_ try and make sure nothing tried to kill him in his sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

When Harry awoke, he was relieved to find himself back in Hogwarts.

Swinging his legs out of the poster bed, Harry rubbed his face tiredly. That was one of the strangest and most lucid dreams he’d had, barring his visions of Voldemort. More of a nightmare really. He was going to have to share it with Ron and Hermione later. Even if Hermione hated divination and oneiromancy, she’d probably be interested in how fleshed out it was and Ron would get a good laugh from it. Something about dwarves and elves- he’d have to write it down, he was already forgetting.

Looking around, Harry frowned as the other beds were all empty. Strange. Normally Ron woke him up before heading down to the common room. Harry frowned at an empty bed for a moment before realising that there were people around, it was only Ron’s bed that was empty. Dean, Seamus and Neville had to be around, but Harry wasn’t really paying attention to the people suddenly crowding the dorm room. He’d never really liked crowds. Hurrying to catch up with Ron, Harry flew down the stairs and entered the living room of Grimmauld Place. Harry paused, frowning.

Ron wasn’t here either. Were they all having breakfast already? Maybe Ginny was cooking, but he’d have to eat quickly, or he’d be late to work. Moving towards the kitchen door, Harry paused again, frowning.

_What?_

He slowly drew his hand away from the door, scanning the room more thoroughly. The room was different. What was different?

Frowning, Harry paused again.

The pictures on the walls were wrong. They were empty, or out of focus, or contained the same repeated image of himself and Ginny. Other frames had people he didn’t really recognise trying to get his attention. The room in general seemed unfocused. Harry felt as if he was in a pensive memory; the ones were people didn’t fully recollect the memory and there was blurred grey-space where the mind filled in what it couldn’t remember. Parts of the décor seemed wrong and of the wrong time period. Pieces of moving furniture and the paintings on the wall all seemed to want his attention, trying to catch his eye, but all of it together made each individual thing get lost in the sea of hectic movement. Only the door in front of him seemed bright and clear.

Was he in a memory? What had he been doing that needed him to look over a memory?

He Paused. He Frowned.

No. He was dreaming. But it was wrong. It didn’t feel quite like it was his dream. It felt external, not internal.

He opened the door, and entered the Burrow’s Kitchen.  It felt safe and warm. There was the distinctive sound of a clock ticking, and he remembered the Weasly family clock, and thought he should check up on how his in-laws were. He must be tired, because he couldn’t quite work out what the clock was telling him, it’s hands pointing all over the place, none of the pictures or words were clear. He looked again, and it was all different. It took a moment to realise it was the wrong clock.

He snapped back to himself, remembering he was dreaming. Did this count as lucid or only vivid? Did it matter?

He needed fresh air. Leaving the Burrow, Harry walked along the edge of the Hogwart’s lake.

_No, he was still dreaming. It was still the wrong dream_.

Hedwig hooted at him from a branch. He smiled and followed her, the path becoming clear.

 

* * *

 

When Harry awoke properly, it was to a musty, dry room and the sound of drunken mumbling. He felt marginally better than he had before he’d slept, but he felt strange. It felt almost like he hadn’t slept, and he couldn’t remember dreaming. Rubbing his face and tiredly freshening himself up with a few charms, he made his way out of his room, still in the clothes he’d arrived in. He supposed he should invest some coin in blending in and get himself a few articles of clothing.

Despite it being morning, the noise of the inn was still impressive. Or at least, Harry thought it was morning. His room didn’t have any windows, but the corridor was amply lit with light pouring through the windows and a large hole in the ceiling, suggesting that it might be later than Harry first thought. How long had he been asleep? Neither Varric nor Isabela answered the knocks on their doors. He’d felt silly knocking on Isabela’s considering she shared it, but nonetheless no one answered, and it didn’t feel right to try and go inside either room without permission from one of the inhabitants. Heading down the small stairs into the main room didn’t give him much of a hint, as the place had no clocks or other timepieces. He probably shouldn’t expect such things to be common place, considering how this place seemed even more medieval than the wizarding world was. He supposed he could have cast a _tempus_ spell, but it was a little late now, considering there were still a few inn patrons about and he was supposed to be hiding his magical nature. The patrons for their part seemed an… inebriated lot, at any hour of the day. At least the barmaid was still about and sober.

“Ah, Nora wasn’t it? Have you seen Varric- or Isabela- about?” At Harry’s question, Nora blinked and looked him up and down. She’d given him strange looks last night, but hadn’t made comment. It seems she still wasn’t going to say what she found odd about him, but Harry could take an educated guess and say his style of dress and his glasses weren’t common apparel in these parts.

“Messere Varric left this morning, Serah. I think miss Isabela is around somewhere. Do you need anything?”

Harry shook his head and thanked her, even though her information made him slightly uneasy. It wasn’t that he was incapable of being independent, but he needed someone friendly to play guide and cultural translator. He only had a bare description of what a Templar looked like from Varric, and that he was to avoid them, but who knows what other little dos and don’ts Varric forgot to mention. Still, if Isabela was about, he’d better go find her, even though he wasn’t sure where she could be hiding if she wasn’t in the main room or her own- actually, maybe it’d be best he wait in the common room for a while.

It turned out waiting in the common room was the better plan, as Isabela found him as he was about to dig into a bowl of the inn’s ‘famous stew’. She explained she had been in one of the back rooms discussing business with someone. Harry knew said business was illegal, but also knew it was none of _his_ business- he wasn’t an Auror here, nor a guard. And he was getting the impression nearly all the business in Kirkwall was on the less legal side of things.

“So, what meat is in it today? Can you tell? I swear, it had nug meat in it once. Strangest flavour, like dirty pork-chicken.” Isabela smiled roguishly at his bemused look, and Harry stared at his spoonful of stew distrustfully, before shrugging and popping it into his mouth. He had no idea what a nug was, but if other people could eat it, he could eat it. He mildly regretted it, after tasting it, but determinedly kept on chewing. Isabela seemed to approve of his indifference.

“You’re a little bit of a mystery, you know that? You look all clean and dressed smartly, but I know very few people of wealth who’d deign to eat mystery meat. Not born into money?”

Harry swallowed his mouthful of what he suspected to be some form of cow offal, and shrugged. Technically he was born into wealth and grew up in an upper-middle class household. It was simply that said household wasn’t the most generous of carers and he’d gone through a war. Also, wizards had access to rather unusual food supplies. Certain breeds of dragon were considered a delicacy.

“It’s not like I can be picky right now, anyway. However, I _was_ born into wealth.” He grinned as Isabela looked more interested. He’d told Varric a bit about his life, such as learning he had magic when he was eleven, going to Hogwarts and how similar that was to a circle, as well as a few anecdotes on the wizarding world. But other than the fact he was married to a woman named Ginny, went to a more liberal version of a Circle and had a few crazy adventures, and then became a mage-guard, Varric didn’t know that much of him to have shared with Isabela. Or the others, as Harry was sure Varric would also tell Hawke about what he’d learnt of their new misfit.

“Oh, I do like _unveiling_ a good mystery. Noble house fallen to scandal?” Harry smiled and shook his head at Isabela’s curiosity.

“So, Varric is off somewhere?” Harry asked and Isabela looked unimpressed at his obvious evasion, stealing his drink in what might have been retaliation.

“Hawke dragged Varric off this morning on a job she’d found- something about missing Templar recruits. I personally try to avoid anything to do with Templars or fanatic mages, so I opted out. Anyway, I wanted to get to know a potential ‘business partner’.” Isabela’s eyes suddenly pinned him down with sharply as she leaned forward, “However, when I tried to wake you earlier I found that I couldn’t find you, despite knowing for sure you hadn’t left the room…”

So Harry’s wards had worked. Harry missed the implications of what Isabela had said, too relieved at knowing that the strangeness of this world didn’t interfere too much with his magic. Harry swallowed another mouthful of mystery stew and raised both brows with a somewhat smug smile.

“Perhaps you should have called?”

“I did.”

Harry blinked, “Oh. I must have been more out of it than I thought.”

“I’ve heard blood mages will do that to you.” Isabela allowed, finishing off his drink. “You’re going to teach me your hide and seek skills later. So, you’re entirely unfamiliar with Kirkwall?”

At Harry’s nod, Isabela continued, “How about we get better acquainted while I show you around? There’s only so long I can stand to be in here, and you slept for an awfully long time.”

“I was thinking about doing a little shopping…”

For some reason, the excited gleam in Isabela’s hazel eyes didn’t seem like the usual kind some people seemed to have about shopping.

 

* * *

 

Harry ended up trading a few of his galleons for an equal amount of trade standard silvers from Isabela. He didn’t get the impression Isabela had swindled him, especially as he offered to give her a percentage as a thanks for helping him out. She still might have done though, but it appeared it was roughly enough to get the essentials, and he stilled had a few galleons tucked away for safe keeping. He’d tucked his sneakoscope into his brown trench coat when getting ready that morning, hoping that it would give him a heads up on any ill intentions around him by vibrating in his pocket. However, the thing hadn’t stopped buzzing around in his pocket since it left his mokeskin.  It seemed like Kirkwall was rife with ill intentions.

Coin sorted, Isabela had guided him away from Lowtown, pointing out that he could get cheap food and supplies there, but if he wanted good gear, he needed to go to the Hightown bazaar. ‘High’ town was… better than ‘Low’ town, he guessed. He bought a few of the local pastries to take with him, as he wasn’t sure when he’d get chance to eat later and didn’t want to waste coin on the presumably more expensive foods in Hightown.

Harry had no idea what elfroot was, or if it went well with goat, but Isabella explained it tasted something like spinach while being confused as to how he’d never encountered elfroot.

Although, had he known he was going to walk up a bloody long staircase to get to the other part of Kirkwall where Hightown was, he might have reconsidered the option of sticking to the Lowtown market. The different districts of Kirkwall were aptly named.  

However, halfway up the staircase, Harry was glad he agreed to go. The view from the steeply ascending stairs was amazing. Lowtown’s maze like streets wound below, not appearing to have any logical layout or thought, sitting cradled within the cliff it was born from. Sitting away from the main town, in the middle of the bay, was an intimidating fortress, watching the ships as they crept through the narrow channels that must lead to the main sea. Harry thought he could see more of Kirkwall’s macabre architecture on the cliff faces, in the form of giant statues of starving men, curling in pain.

“That’s the Gallows.” Isabela spoke, nodding towards the fortress Harry had been staring at, “And the sea is beyond there. Had the Siren’s Call only made it within this bay…”

The stranded pirate trailed off with a sigh, staring wistfully at the narrow channels before shaking her head. “Pointless now thinking about it now. She’s all along the wounded coast, probably along with the remains of my crew. But, I play it right here, I can sail away on a new ship, with a new crew, a new woman.”  She looked towards Harry with that, smirking before gesturing to the stairs again. Harry took a moment before following the hint.

“The Gallows… that’s the ‘circle’ right? Varric said that’s where they keep the mages.”

Isabela sighed dramatically at his question, “Yes, that’s the Gallows- it’s also where they detain anyone coming into the city, before allowing them in the docks. Look- I get it, you’re a ‘wizard’, or a fancy mage, from some… far away land. But please, _please,_ don’t start with the mage liberation speeches. Because I sympathise, I really do, but I’ve spent a night wandering Kirkwall with Anders and Fenris and there’s only so much a person can cope with.”

Harry blinked, frown creeping onto his face “I… No, I was just asking.”  
  
He tried not to let Isabela’s obvious aversion to the issue of mages blatantly being imprisoned in this land bother him, glancing behind to take another look at the threatening building that ruled the centre of the bay. The rest of the steps were taken in silence, Harry eating one of his pastries, until they reached Hightown proper and began to navigate between its much more logical streets.

“So, noble’s here really like…” Harry trailed off, watching a man go by in a pink and yellow outfit, obviously made with expensive materials.

“Themselves?” Isabela supplied, watching the same man with a bored look.

“Well, I was going to say ‘colour’. But that too.”

Harry definitely didn’t want to dress like these folk, even though he wasn’t so keen on what he saw people in Lowtown wearing either, and aside from Anders and Bethany no one seemed to be wearing robes, and even then, those were dress-robes.

“Isabela? If you saw someone wearing robes, what would you think they were?”

“Hm? Well, depends on the robes. Drab- scholars. Drab orange- Clergy. The circle here makes it’s mages wear blue robes I think- you can tell mages robes though. They look fancy. I love Anders’ shoulder pieces. Means you can literally ‘ruffle his feathers’.”

Harry looked down at his standard issue Auror uniform. The brown trench coat on top of clothing more typical of the muggle world stood out like a sore thumb among the more archaic styles of Kirkwall. Well, archaic to him.

“So, unless I want to look like a mage or scholar, I should probably avoid robes.”

Isabela let out a surprised noise,“ You know, I’ve never really thought of a mage that would bypass robes. I like to imagine it’s to help the magic flow- more ‘breathing space’ downstairs after all.”

With that comment, Isabela eyed his trousers, and Harry coughed uncomfortably.

“How about we stick to shirts and trousers for now then?” Harry almost requested and Isabella shrugged in response, leading him to promising stalls.

Most of the fabric was coarser to the materials he was used to wearing, unless he wanted to pay for the really refined materials, but he wondered if he couldn’t do something about that with magic.  Although he couldn’t recall any charms off the top of his head that would soften fabric or generally improve it. However, it was more the styles that were problematic for Harry, leading Isabela complaining he was worse than an Orlesian noble woman when it came to shopping. In the end, he settled for three basic tops that weren’t so garish, along with a selection of ‘small clothes’ and trousers. From Isabela’s disapproving looks, Harry guessed he was probably making some kind of fashion faux pas, or at the very least wasn’t dressing attractively or interestingly enough for her.

He’d just bought a satchel to put them in, intending to enchant it later to carry more, when Isabela called out.

“Hawke! Fancy seeing you up here, rubbing shoulders with the gentry.”

“Hey now, we Hawkes are technically noble on our mothers side.”

Looking up from packing the clothes away, Harry saw that Hawke was indeed in the bizarre with them, and with Isabela’s call, began leading her group towards them. Harry recognised Bethany and Varric, who smiled back amiably, along with the excitable Mabari hound Varric had told him was simply called ‘Dog’ because Hawke lacked imagination and sense. However, there were two new people with Hawke that Harry couldn’t name.

Both were stern and eye catching in their own ways. One was a rather handsome woman, tall and armoured, with bright ginger hair and a leather headband around her forehead. She held herself in a way that quietly demanded respect. The other was an unusual yet familiar looking man with white hair and even whiter tattoos and, for some reason that stood out to Harry, wasn’t wearing shoes with his ornate black armour. When Harry’s bright green eyes met guarded moss green ones, Harry finally realised what looked familiar about him- he had similar features to the woman who he first encountered here, including the Grecian bridge of the nose, large eyes and pointed ears.

“Wasn’t expecting to find you here either Isabela, or Harry- lucky we did though, as we were about to go to the Hanged Man to find him.” Hawke nodded to Harry in greeting as she said this, and the two new faces appraised him again with the knowledge of who he was. Harry could safely say this group was gossiping about him behind his back…

“Well, me and Harry here were just doing some shopping. Hawke, agree with me here-shouldn’t Harry invest in some more _flattering_ clothes? He’s going for boring old clothes that old men would wear.” Isabela complained and Harry glanced down at the satchel with a frown.

Hawke looked unsure of how to answer, but by then Harry was watching the faces of the new people anyway, trying to get a read on them. The woman was frowning at Isabela, obviously disapproving of her, while the strange man had a faint smirk on his face, which Harry suspected was both humour at Isabela’s antics and at Harry’s expense. Harry was beginning to feel that, aside from Hawke Sisters, Isabela, and Varric, he was going to have a tough time getting along with Hawke’s ‘merry band’.

“I’m sure Harry would look dashing in anything, although I’m sure _some_ might prefer he dress otherwise. However, you can ‘explore Harry’s wardrobe’ another time- right now, I have a job.” At this, Hawke turned to Harry, “We found work looking into missing persons- Templar recruits. We expected Templar foul play, but by the looks of it, blood mages are involved.”

Harry stood to attention. There was a lot to take from that- firstly, there was the fact people, young people most likely, were in serious danger. And then there was the whole Templar and blood mage business. Harry wasn’t sure what Hawke was thinking, getting him or Bethany involved with Templar business, after what Varric had told him, but if there were blood mages involved, Harry wanted in. He wasn’t passing up any chance to go after blood mages, especially as they might be connected to the group that summoned him, and might have more answers.

“You seem suited to the job as well, as you’ve already shown your ability to hold up against blood mages, and I’m sure you’ll have notably less problems with Templars than Anders…”Hawke continued and the white haired man scoffed, drawing Harry’s attention to him. Noticing that, Hawke introduced them, “Harry, this is Fenris, and this here is Aveline, an old friend of mine.”

Oh. So that’s an elf- _the_ Elf even. Harry would have flushed from embarrassment, if he hadn’t made the effort to contain his reaction- it wouldn’t have made a very good first impression. Harry held out his hand again on habit, and after a glance, Aveline took his forearm in a firm embrace.

“Seems Hawke has added you to her group. Varric’s only said a little about you, but I’m sure I’ll learn more soon enough.” Harry found her voice as firm as her grip, and decided ‘firm’ was a very good descriptor for the woman- not that he was complaining. She let his arm go, and turned to Hawke.

“However, that’ll have to wait till another time. I want to see this through Hawke, but I have my duties to return to- be sure to inform me of how it goes.” Hawke looked disappointed, as did Bethany, but returned Aveline’s gesture of placing her hand on her shoulder and nodded.

“I understand- but we need to meet up for drinks later.”

“If there’s time.”

“Stay safe, Aveline!” Bethany called after her.

Harry remembered Varric telling him that Aveline was in training to become Captain of the Guard, and now from what he saw, he thought it seemed the perfect job for the woman. He didn’t question her need to be elsewhere- in fact he wondered how she found the time to follow Hawke in between her duties. The higher ranking Aurors were always complaining about a lack of time to sort out paper work, uphold the law and actually live their lives.

After watching Aveline go, Harry turned his attention to Fenris, offering him his hand in the same fashion he had the guardswoman, resigned to having his forearm grasped instead of his hand. Only Fenris didn’t even raise his hand in acknowledgement.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Harry prompted, which was met with an unimpressed stare.

“We’ll see.” The man’s voice was surprisingly deep and gravelly for his physique.

Ah yes, Harry recalled that Fenris had a ‘problem’ with mages. Harry lowered his hand and smiled, although his eyes were almost as hard as the other man’s.

“I’m sure we will.” Harry challenged and  Fenris narrowed his eyes, scowl deepening. Harry found he didn’t really care- he knew that Fenris likely had very good reason to distrust _some_ magic users, but Harry hadn’t done anything to earn this man’s disapproval.

Hawke and Varric both seemed to notice the tension, and Hawke quickly tried to refocus the attention.

“Well, we found out our source lead us to the Blooming Rose- that’s where our recruits seemed to have gone missing.”

Before Harry could open his mouth to ask where or what the Blooming Rose is, Isabela grinned excitedly, “Wait, you’re telling me there’s a job at the _Blooming Rose?_ Count me in, this sounds like it might be fun.”

Oh dear- if Isabela was this excited about the place, it probably wasn’t a good thing. Catching his look, Bethany confirmed his fears dejectedly.

“The Blooming Rose is a… brothel, to put it nicely.”

At least Bethany seemed as excited about the destination as he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Varric and Isabela seemed to get along from the get go, but I still feel I may have made these two a bit too chummy. Isabela has really only known the others for a couple of days, and probably hasn’t even gone out on ‘adventures’ with them that much.
> 
> If you were confused by the dream, don’t worry, you were meant to be.


	3. High, Low, and Dark again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later in this chapter, Harry encounters someone of ambiguous gender (Confirmed as a Drag Queen, but the writers also use female pronouns when referring to them in general). I will use ‘They’ singular in the narrative to refer to that individual to err on the safe side and reflect Harry’s view, as Harry as a character may not be sure how to refer to them. Please don’t take Harry’s thoughts as a reflection of my own views, but rather how I imagine that Harry as a character isn’t used to dealing with different gender identities.

The walk to the Blooming Rose was surprisingly cheerful, considering what they were investigating. Hawke and Varric describe what they’d found so far , including a Templar turning into an abomination, for Harry’s and Isabela’s sake, but the rest of the conversation was filled with light hearted banter, especially between Varric and Isabela.

Fenris for his part didn’t seem to contribute much to the conversation, but rather seemed content to listen or throw in an occasional dry quip. The elf instead spent more of his attention watching their surroundings, or occasionally his companions, much like what Harry was doing. Whenever Fenris caught Harry watching him, or Harry caught Fenris returning the favour, the elf eyes narrowed into a warning glare. The silent battle of glancing glares didn’t seem to be noticed by the others, or if they did notice it they made no comment. It was honestly beginning to ware on Harry’s nerves, so he began pointedly ignoring the other man. What he did notice that was interesting, was that Bethany didn’t seem to receive the same negativity as Harry did, despite being a magic user as well- and he could only presume that him being a ‘mage’ was the cause of Fenris’ attitude towards him.

“Fenris doesn’t seem to like me much.” Harry probed as he drew alongside Bethany, which normally wasn’t that easy to do, as she tended to stick to Hawke’s side. Currently, however, the others seemed to be dogging the older sister’s steps, (including Dog), while Isabela walked close to Varric. Bethany seemed to resign herself to walking behind the group with Harry. Upon his question, both of them looked towards Fenris, where he was walking beside Hawke, eyes flicking between her and Varric thoughtfully as the other two spoke. To Harry, Fenris position and body language looked like that of a bodyguard.

“Oh, that’s just Fenris. If you speak with him, you’ll find he’s not nearly so prickly as he looks. Not really.”

“Well, he certainly seems to act less ‘prickly’ to you, than me…”

“That’s because I spoke to him,” Bethany smiled at him, a slightly teasing expression on her face, “Varric hasn’t actually said that much about you, and myself and Hawke don’t know that much either to be honest. But what Fenris does know is that you’re an… unusual mage found in unusual circumstances.”

“And he hates mages and ‘unsual’ things.” Harry grumbled, being reminded of the Dursley’s dislike for anything out of the norm, and shot a glare at the back of the elf’s head. He was almost surprised when the so called fugitive didn’t sense the glare and turn around to meet it.

“Fenris doesn’t _trust_ mages,” Bethany frowned thoughtfully, lips turning down, “All mages, apparently. And I suppose he has good reason to. Once bitten, twice shy, I guess. Guilty until proven innocent. Or at least not completely suspect. But at least Fenris is inclined to listen, even though he’s not inclined to agree. So, how are you finding Kirkwall?”

The change in topic was jarringly obvious, but Harry couldn’t tell exactly why she wanted to change it, aside from perhaps finding the previous discussion unpleasant.

“It’s… different.”

“Well, I could guess that oh ‘beyond the fade’ mage- but how is it different? What’s your home like? Varric implied you’d be confused about how mages here were treated.”

Ah, she wanted to know how magic users were treated in his world.

“Not _completely_ confused. More confused about how everyone actually knows about magic users- in our world, we keep our existence completely hidden from non-magic users. Because, in the past, they had this nasty habit of tying us to stakes and burning us.”

“Oh.” Bethany’s face fell and her sharp disappointment made Harry regret being so blunt about the fact, even though he’d wanted her to know that ‘his side’ wasn’t perfect like he thought she imagined it to be.  He was quick try and lighten the information.

“That doesn’t happen anymore- not in my country. It’s not that we live entirely separate from each other. Many of us come from non-magical families, and they’re just as much a part of our community as fully magical families.” A small lie- they weren’t, not yet, but they were progressing towards that. He still remembered the Granger’s joy at being allowed to explore the wizarding world, so proud of their daughter as they bought her books for the year. Hopefully more parents would get to experience that now, after the war had settled down.

Of course, he’d have to get back to see if that was the case.

“But you still _have_ to be apart from them. It’s still ‘us’ and ‘them’.” Bethany sighed, watching the group ahead of them talk, and Harry was suddenly aware that it was he and Bethany, the two magic users together, away from the ‘others’.

“Come on. Let’s catch up with them- Isabela looks like she’s having far too much fun teasing your sister, and you need to go defend her honour.”

Bethany spluttered, looking torn between amusement and embarrassment, but let Harry usher her forward, placing her between Hawke and Isabella, and taking the opportunity to take Isabella’s opposite side. He’d have to walk in front or behind once they reached another alley, but right now the streets were open enough to allow them all to walk nearly side by side- although Varric and Hawke walked slightly ahead, always taking the lead, with Isabella having dropped back with Harry and Bethany. Fenris was still behind Hawke, off to the side, and watched Harry and Bethany claim Isabella with an almost curious expression. Dog was happy enough bounding back and forth, sniffing out different objects in the streets.

“So, how far to this ‘Blooming Rose’?” Harry asked, not expecting Bethany to actually fulfil his suggestion of ‘defending Hawke’s honour’. He only hoped she knew he was joking, and didn’t think he came from a place where it was expected of a younger sister to chaperone her older sister.

“Oh, eager to get there?” Isabela teased, but this time Harry went with it.

“Now, now. I’m a married man. I’m probably going to burn up as soon as I step foot in the place.”

“Well, that’s what happens to moths after being drawn to the flame.” Isabela grinned wickedly, and Varric laughed at them both. However, Bethany looked curious again.

“You mentioned you were married, and she’s expecting? What’s she like?” Bethany asked and Hawke added on a question of her own. With the look she sent in Bethany’s direction Harry could guess why once hearing what was asked.

“You’re a little young to be married with an expecting wife, aren’t you?”

Harry was actually surprised. He’d thought that this world would have been used to young marriages, expected them even, if it was anything like what he knew about the past eras of his world.

“Uh well, yes, we’re quite young, by our cultures standards.” Harry was used to that question from prying journalists, and honestly hated being asked it. _Yes,_ they were young, but… “But if you met her, you’d understand why I wasn’t afraid to commit. She’s…. amazing. A witch- _mage_ , as well. Probably a better battle caster than myself, even- certainly doesn’t pull her punches when it comes to those who threaten her friends or family. And she’s… beautiful, intelligent, witty. Puts me in my place.” He could see Isabela roll her eyes, Fenris looking sceptical while the Hawke sisters looked thoughtful- but Varric carried a fond, sad smile.

“She sounds lovely and you sound domesticated. Let me guess- you got her pregnant, so you had to put a ring on that finger you’re so wrapped around?” Isabela scoffed, and Harry threw her a disapproving look.

“Actually, no, married first, accidental miracle after. Truthfully, we were wanting to wait, but, well…”

“We’re here.” Fenris finally spoke, cutting off the conversation- maybe even deliberately. However, the ‘brothel’ _was_ in sight, judging by the red lanterns and sign. A sign which at first Harry couldn’t figure out if it was meant to depict a rose or a tulip, for while a rose would make sense, that rose certainly wasn’t blooming. Once they were close enough, however, Harry blushed once he realised what the painting eluded to and what ‘Blooming’ referred to. Ironic, he supposed, that everyone in there has already been ‘deflowered’.

“Right.” Hawke face turned serious, “Remember we’re looking for anything about Wilmod and a ‘Keran’. Keran is still unaccounted for, but any information on either is useful. We still need to know how Wilmod was possessed.”

“Madam Lusine runs this place for Harlan, who for those not in the know, is the head of the Coterie- the thieves guild,” Varric added further explanation at Harry’s confused look, “She won’t like us snooping around, and neither will he, so avoid talking to the white haired woman in the fancy dress and poor mood. Try and act interested in looking around at the ‘merchandise’, and not too suspicious.”

“Easy enough done.” Isabela chirped, and Fenris managed to both look amused at her and disapproving in general.

“Flesh is always for trade, it seems, slavery or no. Come, we have blood mages to track.” Fenris, for what seemed an unusual change to Harry, took the lead, Hawke shortly behind him, Dog by her side.

Harry just looked uncomfortable as he followed the group in, fiddling with his shopping filled satchel. Not that he had anything against prostitutes, at least not the women themselves, but the job was… grimy. And a building full of them _and_ their customers sounded unpleasant. Bethany looked uncomfortable as well. Harry realised they were also similarly aged on top of both being magic users, adding to the similarities that likely made her seem like safe company to Harry. Isabela, on the other hand, looked far too happy with herself. Harry didn’t think Isabela really counted as ‘safe’ company.

Once inside, Hawke took the lead again, and the group got a few strange looks- maybe because of its size, or because of its members. They did look like a rather odd group together.

On the inside, Harry was… was… overwhelmed. A little surprised. Slightly horrified. He schooled his face into blank acceptance. So what if there was a male dwarf, sitting on a man’s lap, finger’s teasing his beard. Or three women pampering another man. Or a young boy ( _and oh please, don’t let him be part of the ‘merchandise’),_ scampering about as if it’s all normal. Harry shouldn’t judge. Not at all. Right.

Isabela grinned at him.

Hawke and Varric however, took it all in stride, only looking the slightest bit distracted by the activity around them. Fenris kept close to Hawke, with his seemingly permanent scowl etched into his face.

As Hawke approached a nearby girl, one dressed rather plainly (with matching looks, Harry thought), Isabela clapped a hand around his and Bethany’s shoulders, making them both jump.

“Lusine’s going to notice us all huddled together like this, and believe me, she hates groups. They’re hard to service. So while Hawke deals with all business no pleasure Viveka, we should do our own ‘questioning’. Kitten, see if you can’t get Dog to come with us- I hardly think Hawke wants to try and explain him to Viveka.” Without giving them time to protest, and giving a subtle nod to Hawke, Isabela guided the two youngest of the group into another room, away from Madam Lusine’s critical eye. Bethany only just managed to get over her bemusement in time to call Dog to follow her instead of her sister.

“Well, Denier is busy, and it looks like Cora, Faith and Katriela have been requested for a ‘group event’. Greedy sod- they’re some of the prettiest girls here. Hmm.” Having let the two go, Isabela stood, tapping her chin in exaggerated thought. Harry shared a worried look with Bethany, and wondered if he could back out now- this wasn’t what he’d signed up for.

“Sabina is such a bore, Leonato is sweet, but not the brightest- do you think a Templar willing to go break his vows in a brothel is more likely to go for your standard cheap female whore, or be more adventurous and branch out to other prices, genders, races and _tastes?_   Because I know who I want to talk to.”

Turns out that someone is called Serendipity, and was either a she who was a ‘he’ or a he who is currently a she. Transgender or drag queen, Harry didn’t exactly care or know, but they fussed over him and Bethany with adoring coos, in between excitedly ruffling Dog’s ears. Bethany seemed rather flattered by the attention, even.

“Well aren’t you a pair of sweeties?” Serendipity asked with their contradictorily deep voice, still petting the thoroughly happy Dog and looking over the two magic users before looking to Isabela, “You don’t usually go with _younger_ men, lovey.”

“Well usually it’s like bedding an overly excitable puppy- very much not my thing. And no, Dog, I’m not talking about you. I’m  just playing chaperone to these two. Anyway, Harry here is a married man.” She grinned playfully, and Serendipity’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Married? Oh, you naughty boy.” They chastised Harry, playfully slapping his shoulder. Looking over, Harry saw he’d get no support from Bethany, and certainly not from Isabela. Both were looking far too amused at his expense, especially as Serendipity continued, “Coming here and leaving the wife at home, how selfish of you- having all the fun by yourself. You should have bought her along with you.”

“Uh-“

“How about I teach you a trick or two, to bring home to her?”

Reaching his limit, Harry pushed back, away from Serendipity, who chuckled deeply, seeming not to mind as they turned towards Bethany.

“How about you sugar? Aw, you’re just too cute.”

“Oh- no- I’m fine- thank you. Really.” Bethany flustered, and Harry gave her a vindictive look.

Both Serendipity and Isabela laughed, and the two got to talking, Harry feeling oddly sidelined. He was rather used to being the leader, and even though he had to learn to follow for Auror training, it still felt odd to be so… secondary. He had picked up Isabela’s implication that he and Bethany, as the two youngest, had been taken aside while the others continued the main investigation. Really though, Harry was twenty and had been legally an adult for three years and had a wife and future child on the way. He didn’t need chaperoning or protected from the ‘adult themes’ of a brothel.

“Well, Isabela, hunny- I know you didn’t pay for my attention. Lucy hasn’t given me the notice. I hope you’re not planning to sneak your way into my bed, because I can’t risk my hide, not even for you- after all, this hide of mine is my livelihood.”

“Sadly, it’s business tonight- trying to track down two Templar recruits. Wilmod and Keran?”

“Now, now, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell.” Serendipity smiled coyly, even as they glanced around cautiously, “But I can tell you that they aren’t any of my boys. Takes a real adventurous Templar to explore my chambers. Most Templars have vanilla tastes- human girls mostly. Shame, they’re missing out.”

Isabela looked thoughtful at that, “Not many human girls here- aside from Faith and the occasional part timers. Surely not Viveka? Although she could do with good sailing, grouchy old bitch.”

Harry frowned, but not at the conversation. There was something wrong. He looked over the lounge, not spotting Hawke, Varric or Fenris. But it wasn’t just that. The place felt strange- cloying almost. Looking over to Bethany, he noticed her brow had knitted into an irritated frown as well, looking even more disturbed than Harry. Even Dog had gone rigid in Serendipity’s petting.

“We have a new girl- one I take it you don’t _know._ She’s been here a couple of months now. Real high and mighty.”

Harry met Bethany’s eyes, and they both knew the other felt it.

“Call’s herself _Idunna_ , ‘ _Exotic Wonder of the East’_. _Idunno_ why she’s so popular though, ‘specially when she barely comes outta her room. Has to be someone’s recommending her.”

Harry and Bethany didn’t wait for Serendipity to finish, or for Isabela to follow, Dog only joining them from whatever animal instinct warned him as well. They both could feel blood magic on the air, and neither could spot the other group, which could only bode ill.

Their race up the stairs wasn’t entirely unnoticed, especially not with Dog’s growling, but Isabela and Serendipity at least had the good sense not to draw further attention by calling after them. Harry couldn’t spare enough attention to tell if Isabela had made any apologies, but he could hear her following after them. Bethany and his own attention were instead focused entirely on the shut door on the second floor balcony.

“- _Just do one last thing for me, draw your blade and bring it gently across your neck…”_  
  


Bethany had actually managed to reach the door before him, and was staring wide eyed at whatever she saw in the room having flung the door open, before a flush of rage passed over her normally gentle face. From what he just heard, Harry could take a good guess at why, and his heart skipped a beat as he skidded into the room after her. Reflex, experience and training kicked in and he automatically threw an _expelliarmus_ at the woman he identified as a threat.

The spell had no wand to disarm, but it was enough to knock her off balance and break her focus enough to disrupt whatever spell she was casting. Bethany immediately took advantage of the opening, slamming the woman back against the wall with a wave of magic. Harry belatedly noticed that Hawke had been holding a knife to her own throat, Varric and Fenris looking dazed. _Something like an imperius curse_?

“Don’t touch my sister!” Bethany shouted, finally breaking the others out of their disorientated states.

Hawke snarled, quickly turning the dagger on the woman who looked panicked, holding up her hands to ward the warrior off. Dog was suddenly by Hawke’s side, keeping the prostitute back against the wall with a terrifying snarl. Fenris seemed to agree whole heartedly with the threat, shaking his head with a growled ‘ _Vishante kaffas.’_  Varric was reaching for Bianca.

“W-wait, please-“

“Oh fuck, Hawke! Close the door before you do that!” Isabella slid in moments after Harry, closing the door behind her. In actuality, she hadn’t been that far behind Harry, but she’d missed a lot in the brief moment it took her to catch up with her young wards, “You can’t just go threatening one of the girls openly, even if she is messing with Templars!”

Isabela hissed at Hawke, who’s eyes were still firmly focused on the cowering prostitute. Bethany had unclipped her staff, and whatever she was doing, it was helping clear the fogginess from the room that the blood-magic had left.   
  
  
”Spare me _messere_.” The woman, who was likely Idunna, pleaded. She really was pretty, in a harsh sort of way. Well-kept blood red hair, cold blue eyes… she probably would have been popular, even without the added use of mind-controlling magic.

Harry kept his occulmency shields up, even though they weren’t the best and she showed no signs of trying to control any of them again. Isabela was casually leaning against the door, likely to give them some time if anyone tried to barge in to see why six people were occupying the room of a single prostitute. Varric was likewise looking like threatening blood-mage prostitutes was a daily occurrence and nothing to be excited about. Bethany and Fenris looked ready to attack at Hawke’s signal, but aside from the raised knife, she showed no signs of attacking Idunna yet, instead focusing on questioning her. None of this gave Harry much to work off of, and the situation made him feel decidedly uncomfortable.

“What sort of magic was that?”  
  
“That was…” Idunna glanced around the room, eyes looking for sympathy and finding none. Harry had schooled his face, taking on the role of an Auror on the job, despite the actual lack of legal authority this group had. Pressing into the wall behind her, Idunna continued. “Blood and Desire in equal measure, it was an art I learned… elsewhere.”

“Blood magic then?” Hawke summed up, any of her more jovial nature gone. Harry got the feeling she really disliked having people mess with her head, and could fully relate. Harry, for his part, focused more on the ‘desire’ aspect of her magic. Blood magic he suspected he had some understanding of, or at least how it was defined. Desire magic hadn’t been mentioned by any of Hawke’s companions yet, however, with them only mentioning drawing on magic from the fade. Did Idunna mean that she used desire as motivation, like some of Harry’s spells needed emotion to drive them, or that she drew on desire and blood instead of the fade?

“Yes, Messere. Please… don’t kill me.” Idunna’s plea pulled Harry away from his thoughts, and he berated himself. Now was not the time for theorising. With Idunna showing no signs of resistance, Hawke lowered her knife.

“Hawke, you’ll need to hurry up. The bouncer’s aren’t going to be able to do anything to us, but Lucine isn’t going to let any of her workers get harassed. Bad for business. We won’t have long before this room gets even _more_ crowded.” Isabela warned, still leaning against the door, looking like she was trying to listen for activity behind it, while also paying attention to the situation in the room. Varric nodded to her, and after glancing at the others to make sure they had the situation under control, began to search the room.

When Idunna’s attention flicked to the dwarf searching through her belongings, a look of panic and anger on her face, Hawke waved the knife to get her attention again. Harry grimaced slightly to himself, before moving towards Isabela. He was no stranger to interrogations, but it was harder when the person looked so frightened and in a way that wasn’t ‘Peter Pettigrew Pathetic’. Isabela raised an immaculate brow at him, before he made an offhand   gesture to signal there wasn’t a problem and cast a sound-barrier charm around the room, finding it easier to work around the resistance this time round. Hopefully they wouldn’t need it, but he didn’t want to risk Idunna calling for help.

Both Bethany and Idunna flicked glances at him, eyes reflecting different versions of curiosity and confusion, but Hawke quickly drew their attention again.  
  
“You’re going to answer all my questions, and if there is even a hint of magic-“  
  
“Tahrone-” Idunna interjects, Hawke’s threats unnecessary, especially when she was out numbered six to one. After a pause to summon the courage to speak, the blood-mage went onto explain “-Tahrone, put me here, to send biddable Templar recruits to the sanctuary, three spear alley in the under city. I enchanted Wilmod and Keran weeks ago. But after they left these walls, I know not what came of them.”

_Weeks?_ That wasn’t a good sign for Keran, especially not if Wilmod had already turned up as an abomination. Harry had yet to see what an abomination was like, but it had been explained to him as if one of those demons he’d fought tried to merge with a person’s body. It sounded horrifying. Catching a gesture from Varric from the corner of the eye, Harry moved over to him as he lifted papers from the desk.

“Please, let me live, it’s not my fault. It was all Tahrone’s idea.”  
  
“Quiet-Tell me about Tahrone, who are they?”   
  
Harry listened to the interrogation happen, as he scanned the documents Varric was holding. Bethany seemed to have the magical side of the situation under control, and while he hadn’t seen Fenris fight yet, he doubted the elf carried a sword as big as he was around for show.

“ _Seems like she’s telling the truth so far.”_ Varric spoke lowly, so as not to disturb the questioning, _“These detail drop off instructions for blood-magic drugged up Templars in the undercity. List of names too- Keran and Wilmod aren’t among them, so I don’t think that’s a list of the ‘shipment’.”_

“She put me up to this. She said we could recreate the ancient imperium. That mages can rule again, not serve. She says the Templars cannot hold against us if we stand up and fight.”

Harry felt himself frown at what was being said. Thinking like that, that magic users should rule, only led to trouble. But the latter sentiment, the idea about uniting as one against an oppressor, Harry couldn’t fault.

“Perfect. Because what the world really needs is another imperium.” That was Fenris. And from the sound of his growling tone, Idunna had said the entirely wrong thing. Harry couldn’t remember all the details given to him about the man, but it seemed like the imperium was a touchy subject. Perhaps it was the same place as Tevinter, or similar to the country that Fenris escaped. He quickly glanced over to see what was happening, but while Fenris’ glare had deepened, he was making no move without Hawke’s consent. Harry turned back to Varric, feeling more and more tense about the situation happening off to one side of him.  
  
“ _You think it might be a list of co-conspiritors? Or a hit list?”_ He reached over to adjust the papers so he could better read them, but frowned as he realised it was half written in a script he couldn’t understand. Looked like runes, but even from his small exposure to runes at Hogwarts, he couldn’t make much sense of them. The other half was scrawled in the roman alphabet. But there was one name, written in roman, that he could just make out. _Ilani._ That name was familiar and Harry could recall where he heard it.  
  
 “ _Looks like they know my blood mages.”_ Harry pointed out the name to Varric, who frowned at it, “ _That was one of the names of the mages who brought me here. I’m next to certain that was the name of the woman- the elven one?”_

_“Might be- I didn’t catch many names being thrown around when I arrived, but it’s worth looking into.”_  
  
“This ‘Sanctuary’ of yours, how many other mages are there? Are there any other defences?” Hawkes voice rose over his and Varric’s whispering.

“People go in and out all the time. Sometimes a handful, sometimes more- There are traps! Magical traps. There’s a hidden switch at the front. It turns them off.”

Harry kept paying attention, noticing the shift in Hawkes stance. It seems like she was satisfied with the information she’d gotten, and together with the papers Varric found, they were sure to find this group. Harry felt the thrill of being on a case, but it faded once he found himself again unsure of the situation. He wasn’t a law enforcer here, and Aveline wasn’t with them. Where did you even take Blood-mages to be detained? Did you take them to these Templars? Harry got his answer as Hawke stepped forward fluidly, knife poised.  
  
“You’re just too dangerous. I’m sorry.”   
  
“What? Wait!-“  
 “N-no. Noo-“  
  
Harry spoke just as Idunna began pleading again, but neither of them could stop the knife sliding under her ribcage. Idunna gasped, hands curled around Hawke’s hand holding the knife, flinching once, twice, before her eyes rolled back and her form went limp. Bethany had looked away, while Isabela and Fenris watched with cool detachment. Unknown to Harry, Varric was instead watching him. Dog lowered his hackles, the threat dealt with, while Hawke lowered Idunna onto the bed, withdrawing the knife and cleaning it, as Harry stared.

“But… she answered your questions, she wasn’t going to fight- even if she did we could restrain her, why-“ Harry’s mind was trying to catch up. You didn’t just kill someone like that. The blood-mages in the sewers had been different, they weren’t going to go peacefully, Harry could understand that. Harry was an Auror and wizarding war survivor, used to having to use extreme force, but Idunna didn’t require that. This is not how this situation should have gone.  
  
 Varric was staring at Harry thoughtfully, while Isabela looked indifferent about his outburst. The Hawke siblings looked the most different in response, with Marian frowning at him like a teacher who was given the wrong answer, while Bethany seemed like she might even agree with Harry.

Fenris narrowed his eyes at Harry, speaking before anyone else.

“She was a blood-mage, one willing to entrap and kill Templars. A mage like that, who’s tasted power? She would have gone on to commit worse atrocities. You think her forgivable, worthy of mercy?”

Had Harry been paying more attention, he might have picked up on the probing note of the question. Instead he glared back at the elf.

“She has a right of justice. Of a fair trial, or whatever passes for one in this world.”

Fenris looked like he was about to laugh, before Hawke spoke up.   
  
“Her fate had we turned her in would likely be one she considered worse than death. This way is both safer and more merciful.” Hawke sheathed her dagger, looking steadily at Harry, “Fenris is right. An Apostate willing to commit such actions now, will not submit sweetly later. She’d only reach for more extreme measures.”

“Apostate prostitutes? Apost-titutes!”

Harry blinked at Isabela’s cheerful interjection, thrown off guard by it, forgetting what he was going to say in response to Hawke. Varric used the moment to change the subject, waving the documents.  
  
“The ‘apostitute’ wasn’t lying, at least. We have a nest of nefarious mages in the undercity, and there might even be a chance they _are_ connected to the ones we tracked down in the sewers and had Harry, here.”  
  
“Guess we better go explain the delay in business to them then. We can’t wait for Aveline to be free for this. They might have already been notified that Idunna was in trouble and be on the move.”  
  
Hawke spoke and nodded to Isabela, who opened the door and lead the way out. Harry and Varric were the last one to leave. Harry because he wasn’t sure if he should follow, staring at the body bleeding out onto the bed, Varric because he wanted to talk to Harry.

“Hawke’s not a mage hater, or needlessly cruel. The Templar’s wouldn’t show a blood-mage who had been picking off their own any justice, or fair trial. At best, they would have made her tranquil. Stripped her of all emotion, personality- and magic.”

“ _What?”_ Harry could feel his face pale, and is wasn’t made better by Varric’s sympathetic look.

“Kid, Kirkwall can be a dark, cruel place, full of shit. Mages have it rough almost anywhere in Thedas, but Kirkwall has a bad rep on top of that. You, Sunshine, Blondie? You have to keep your head low.” Varric sighed, and gestured to the door, moving towards it himself.

On their way out, Harry noticed some of the fearful looks they were getting. Hawke and Isabela were right in that they noticed something was wrong. Harry caught Serendipity giving them a resigned look. He wandered how many of them knew Idunna was an ‘apostate’ and accepted, or even approved of her being lynched like this, and how many of them were just too frightened to speak out against violence on one of their own, disliked or not.

Lucine just looked livid. ‘ _Over lost profit?_ ’ Harry wondered cynically. Hawke stopped on their way out to quietly have a brief and terse chat with the Madame, and whatever was said seemed to appease Lucine by the smallest of amounts as she clicked her fingers and began getting some of her staff in action.

No one pursued them out of the brothel and no guards were waiting for them outside. Harry could only presume that there would be little consequences for taking a woman’s life in this world. He absently wondered if the prospective Guard Captain friend of Hawke’s would have condoned this- or if she would even be informed.

Hawke was leading the group back to Lowtown with grim determination, Dog and Fenris close by her side. Bethany had slowed to join with Harry and the rest of them.

“What actually happened in there, while we were gone?” She directed at Varric, who shook his head with a sigh, having to keep a quick pace to keep up with their strides.

“Blood magic, Sunshine. One minute we were asking her questions, the next she was asking us. And I felt so… agreeable. Now, I’ve just got a splitting headache and a real desire to finish this job and get a drink.”

Harry glanced between the people with him. Varric and Bethany at least looked mildly disturbed by it all. Isabela just looked done with the whole thing. By the time they reached the stairs, Harry noted the sun was beginning to set. He had spent most of the day either sleeping, shopping or in a brothel.

“We’re heading to ‘dark town’, right? Where is that exactly?” Harry asked as they began descending back to Lowtown.

“Oh- Remember Ander’s clinic, and the lift we took to get to Lowtown? That’s where Darktown is- the ‘undercity’.” Bethany answered, and Harry frowned, but it was Isabela that spoke next.

“And a really foul place too. Lowtown I could grow to like- Darktown has no charm to redeem it what so ever. Which is why I think I might love you and leave you.”

Harry blinked, looking over to the pirate, Varric and Bethany looking equally disappointed.

“Not going to stick around for the fun, Rivaini?”

“I thought the Blooming Rose would be fun, but let me tell you, it’s going to take a lot of ‘ _cunning_ ’ to get back in after that fiasco. Anyway, you have plenty of hands on deck to deal with this without me. Harry, I’ll take that satchel from you, it’s got some of my things in it as well and I doubt you’re going to want to put on a fashion show for them.”

Harry blinked, opening the satchel . While it was true he didn’t exactly want it in the way of a potential fight, he was sure it only contained his newly purchased clothing. But, lo and behold, various jewellery and other small items from the hightown bazaar glinted up at him, any sound they may have made muffled by his clothing that cradled  them.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use me as your mule, thank you very much.” Harry  gave her an unimpressed stare.

Isabela gave an apologetic shrug and took the satchel without waiting for further permission.  Before they could comment, Isabela was already catching up with Hawke and likely informing her of her absence. From what Harry could see of Hawke’s face, she looked disappointed, but nodded and sighed, after which Isabela gave both Hawke and a bemused Fenris a mischievous grin. Throwing a quick glance and wave back to the rest of the group, the land-bound-pirate quickly descended the last of the stairs and disappeared into Lowtown’s labyrinthine streets. Harry felt a strange sense of disappointment bloom in his chest. He’d gotten the impression Isabela was something of a rouge element, but she’d also seemed like she could become a trustworthy ally and friend. Yet, she had so quickly avoided talking about the plight of the magic users in this world, had used him, and was now so nonchalantly leaving them when they were heading into danger because it wasn’t ‘fun’. He would have to be very careful about entering any form of business with her, if he did at all.

It had taken the group far less time to descend the stairs than it had for Harry and Isabela to scale them, and Hawke paused at the bottom of the steps as Isabela left, looking over them all.

“Well, we’re down a pirate, but we still have two swordsmen, two mages and an arbalist.” At Dogs unhappy bark, Hawke amended “And a brave marbari hound- so naturally, we can handle anything.”

Dog happily barked at that, and Harry had to wonder just how much the hound actually understood  of what was being said. Bethany had wandered forward to stand next to her sister as she addressed the group, and Harry though this might not be unlike how the ‘Hawke Sisters’ acted during their previous occupation.

“Anyone else want to back out? I understand if people aren’t keen on visiting blood-mages. They probably serve terrible tea.”

Despite her half-hearted joke, only Varric shook his head with a smile, but none of them took up her offer. Hawke nodded her head once in approval at them all, before gesturing for them to start walking again.

“When we reach Darktown, a group of our size and mix is going to be noticed, and you can bet anyone with brains is going to have lookouts- so we need to get into this ‘Sanctuary’ fast and quick.” Hawke suddenly focused on Harry, and he immediately straightened up, “Harry, this is your first time working with me, so I need to get an idea of your skills and how to use them- are you any good at healing magic?”

Harry blinked, and shook his head. Well, he knew basic spells for immediate first aid, but he had a feeling that wasn’t what Hawke was asking “I know only light healing spells- they’ll fix small injuries and stabilise more serious wounds, but if you’re asking if I can heal a bad wound in the middle of a fight, I can’t with confidence. I’d need time to focus or risk botching the spell.”

Hawke nodded, her head tilted in mild annoyance, but not disappointment. Bethany spoke up beside her.

“We could pick up Anders along the way, if you think we’d need a healer.”

Hawke looked thoughtful, but after glancing at her sister and Harry, she shook her head.

“No, it’d take time we don’t want to risk. Harry- myself, Fenris and Dog will be taking the brunt of the attacks, diving into the melee. These will be mages though, and they’re going to want to attack from afar. Can you play magical defense while Beth takes offense and Varric covers all our arses, giving us chance to tackle the bastards?”

Harry nodded at that. He was pretty damn good at _protego_ and wondered if _finite_ could work against some of these ‘mage spells’. He’d struggle coming up with counter-spells to unknown magic, but he could still help by repelling magic and helping take down any attackers. The others didn’t seem to need to ask further about their roles, probably used to working with Hawke already.

“Don’t worry, Bianca and I will keep your arses safe. After all, that’s what I end up having to look at half the time and I’d rather prevent them from looking any worse.”

“Good. We’ll work out a better plan once we get a better idea of what we’re walking into. Beth, Harry, you’re on ‘prevent blood mage shenanigans’ duty. You sense anyone trying to mess with our heads, you knock off theirs, got it?”

Bethany and Harry acknowledged the command. Harry felt slightly conflicted again about having little to no say in the plan, but then again it wasn’t like Hawke had told him he couldn’t give input. It was just that he had so little information on the situation, he wouldn’t know what to suggest anyway. ‘ _Perhaps the suggestion of not executing those who surrendered_?’ Sighing to himself, Harry tried to think of this as Auror business again- follow the senior agent in the field, follow orders if they’re sound.

The group had easily managed to navigate through Lowtown, the Hawkes and Varric knowing how to get through the streets with practised ease. Harry and Fenris simply followed their lead. The lift shook worryingly, carrying their combined weight, but the others didn’t seem too bothered by it.

“Harry, I’ve been meaning to ask something.” Harry blinked as Bethany spoke up in the tense silence of the lift, but the young woman  pressed on despite all eyes now watching her, “Being a ‘ _hedge mage’_ your magic feels rather different to mine, but you cast something when we first met you that we’ve all been, ah, curious about.”

The way she stressed hedge mage confused Harry, but he could guess that was the cover he was meant to be taking- a hedge mage was something of a ‘wild’ untrained mage right? Still the leading sentence seemed to catch a few of them off guard, including Harry himself, but Varric and Fenris were better at hiding it. Hawke was looking very interested in the topic her sister was broaching, keeping her eyes on Harry.

“The ‘deer’ you summoned. Was it a spirit of some kind?”

Harry blinked.

“You mean Prongs?” He glanced around the faces in the confined space, uncomfortable by how serious they looked, or strongly disapproving in one elf’s case, “I… He’s my Patronus? I guess you could call him a guardian spirit, but honestly, I’m not sure he’s a spirit like you’re thinking. Although, I really don’t fully understand what you understand spirits to be, but- you’re not worried by him are you?”

Judging by the uncomfortable atmosphere, it seemed they might be. Bethany for her part as questioner seemed to be the one most calmly approaching the subject.

“Summoning spirits is considered dangerous by most, considering how much risk there is of calling on a demon instead.”

“Demon? What- no, Prongs is…” Harry made a hand gesture, searching for a way to explain what a Patronus was to people with entrenched ideas about spirits and demons and whatnot, “More just a spell? He’s a manifestation of my happiest memories, like how most spells are manifestations of emotions. He’s not really even a he, that’s more me projecting. Well, no, he _is_ a he. ”

Bethany had a look of confusion on her face that led Harry to believe his attempts to explain had only made things worse.

“So this ‘Prongs’ is a spirit of… happiness?” Hawke asked uncertainly, one brow raised at him.

“Sure, I guess you could say that.” Harry decided to agree, because even though he wouldn’t explain a Patronus quiet like that, it was close enough to the basic understanding of what a Patronus was.

“Is it not bad enough that we already associate with a possessed mage, that we now also have one who summons spirits as casually as an altus?” Fenris’ deep voice caught Harry off guard, and he realised the elf had barely spoken at all since they left the Blooming Rose. Harry glared back at the frown levelled at him. He had no idea what an altus was and could only assume the first comment was referring to Anders, but there was no reason for them to be reacting to Prongs like this.

“Lay off-  Prongs couldn’t harm you any more than a strong wind could. He’s joy and protection and positivity given form- I’ve never heard of a Patronus harming anyone, it goes against their nature. I summoned him before because those shadow demons reminded me of a creature that embodies fear and despair as much as it feeds of it. Prongs- Patronuses are _designed_ to fight creatures like that.”

“It’s not the summon so much as the summoner I question. The power to enslave beings from the fade is one easily abused.”

Harry was about to snap at Fenris again, because ‘ _enslaved’?_ However his retort was cut off as Bethany spoke again.

“I’m sure a spirit of joy will be no danger to us. I met one in the fade myself, but I’m told they’re pleasant things if they stay still enough to provide company to someone. We just needed to know if you’d be calling on spirits regularly, or plan to when we encounter these blood mages.”

“Right,” Hawke picked up where her sister left off, “Might be a bit distracting if we suddenly have a whole lot more company on our side. Can’t say I much approve of summoning spirits either, so I’d ask you to keep it to a minimum if at all.”

“Prongs is the only ‘spirit’ I cast, don’t worry,” Harry bit out, unhappy with the entire evening.

Bethany and Hawke shared a look that seemed to convey some form of silent communication between the sisters and Hawke shrugged to Bethany’s nod. Varric, who had remained silent for the conversation, just chuckled.

“I don’t know much about fade business, but I saw the way that hart of yours kept those shades at bay. As weird and  magical as he may be, I don’t mind him covering our backs.”

The dwarf’s comment and possible seal of approval seemed to ease the tension. Fenris still didn’t look like he agreed, but merely folded his arm while waiting for the lift to finally touch down. Harry glanced to the mabari hound as if Dog might want to throw his two cents in. The mabari merely tilted his head at Harry quizzically. Well at least someone didn’t feel the need to comment on Harry’s spell use.

As the lift had slowly lowered beneath the streets, what little light was cast by the fading sun disappeared. Hawke cranked the wheel that controlled the lift with no complaints, and Harry wasn’t sure if he should offer to help as no one else was. It didn’t really matter as they soon reached the streets that Harry recalled from when he first woke up in Kirkwall.

Lowtown had smelt pretty foul, especially with the foundry fumes. But he’d forgotten how much worse Darktown had smelt. His wrinkled nose didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t worry about this smell so much- that’s just Darktown’s characteristic stench. If you suddenly smell rotten eggs, then nothing at all- that’s when you’re really in trouble.” Varric’s reassuring smile wasn’t really all that reassuring.

“…Do I want to know why?”

Hawke answered his question as she lead the group calmly through the dark streets, with only a few lanterns and the faintly glowing lichen on the walls to light the way.

“Chokedamp.  No idea what causes it, but it’s a fog that kills. Most people don’t really notice it happening- at least, it doesn’t look that way. Not with how the bodies are found. ” She informed him grimly, “Occasionally spreads up to Lowtown through vents and airshafts. But it’s far worse down here. I hated any job we got down here.”

“And Anders chooses to live down here?” Harry asked, glancing back to where he believed Anders’ clinic laid. Bethany shot him a reproving look.

“It’s not that he ‘chooses’ to live down here. There’s not many places for an apostate to hide in Kirkwall, and it’s not like he has any family to help protect him.” The sister’s shared an uncomfortable look with each other, and Harry almost felt bad for asking

“As an abomination, the mage has even fewer places to hide. People know magic is dangerous, and he’s already shown signs of succumbing to its temptations.” Fenris added. He expected Hawke to argue in defence of her sister, or for Bethany to do so for herself, but neither of them responded to Fenris’ statement.

“Blondie actually has more than a few people looking out for him down here.” Harry rose a brow when Varric was the one to defend the non-present  wizard, “People in Kirkwall don’t give a nug’s shit about folk in Darktown. But Blondie heals them, cares for them, and doesn’t even charge them for it. He’s got issues, I give you that. But he’s earned allies too.”

Harry frowned to himself. He still hadn’t grasped what they meant by calling Anders an abomination, aside from the information he’d been given that said it was when a demon possesses a person. But, Anders’ surely wasn’t possessed by an actual demon, right? However, it sounded like Anders had a serious condition that made him unstable and dangerous either way- possibly related to him glowing blue when angry- yet from Varric’s descriptions of him, the man sounded like a saint in this dark world.

Fenris merely grunted at Varric’s defense, letting the issue drop. If Darktown was one of the few places witches and wizards of this world could hide, Harry pitied them. He’d once compared Kirkwall as a whole to Knockturn Alley, but if that was the case, he had no idea what that would make Darktown. 

Harry didn’t get much time to inspect Darktown further, as the group moved at a steady, determined pace through the alleys and stairwells, but if this was where magic-users came to hide in this city, Harry wanted to check it out at some point. When the group reached what Harry presumed was ‘three spear alley’, or rather a set of dark narrow stairs disappearing under the carved stone of the streets, they stopped. Hawke gestured to Fenris to stand one side of her and dog the other, and for Harry to stand behind them both. Bethany and Varric lingered behind, as Hawke stared down the dark steps with a cautious frown.

“Beth, Harry- sense anything?” At Hawke’s question, Bethany frowned, eyes going distant. Harry wasn’t quite sure what to do. Back at the brothel, he _had_ sensed something connected to Idunna’s blood magic. It was like a fog that could be felt at the back of the mind, a stickiness that was on him but not, but Kirkwall in general, when Harry focused on it, felt strange to him. He’d never really tried sensing magic before, although he knew more experienced wizards like Dumbledore could detect strange magicks, like when he had sensed the dead magic in the sea side cave. Luckily for Harry, his inexperience went unnoticed as Bethany shook her head and Hawke apparently didn’t need any more confirmation beyond her sister’s.

“No… nothing beyond the usual. There might be… something, further in, but I wouldn’t be able to tell. Anders seems like he’s more sensitive to these things then I am. Sorry, Marian.”

Hawke gave her sister a smile and waved the apology away, before her eyes hardened again as she looked back down the stairs, “Likely means they’re not close, or that they’re gone. Keep your senses open as we make our way through. I don’t want a magical ambush.”

Before Hawke could make her way down the steps, Harry stopped her with a question of his own.

“What’s the plan, exactly, beside battle tactics? I mean, I’m still getting used to how things are done here, or what to expect.” His voice carried a little of his condemnation  of how Idunna was dealt with, and Hawke noticed, judging by her frown tightening.

“We do what we have to Harry. We’ll speak more on it later, but you’re right, I can’t expect you to know my methods yet.” Hawke nodded down the stairs, “Anything that’s not a person attacks, be it demon, abomination or other- you kill it. If we find people, we work with what they give us. I prefer to ask first, but if we have to defend ourselves, do so. And I’m depending on you to give us magical defence, so keep your guard up. If we find nobody, we look around for leads.”

“And any blood mages we find? Do we kill them?”

Fenris scoffed, and Harry threw him a glare, but Hawke answered him with a measured tone as she descended the stairs, reaching up to unsheathe her sword.

“If we must. It would be a mercy compared to what the Templars would do to them, and it would be a mercy to any who would fall victim to them should we let them go.”

Varric clapped him on the back to encourage him to move forward, and glancing back he received sympathetic looks from him and Bethany. Sighing, Harry took out his wand and steeled himself. He may not agree with appointing themselves as judge, jury and executioner, but he also wasn’t going to endanger the group by failing them at his appointed role of defence.

Besides, if these blood mages were connected to the ones that brought him here, then not only was this an opportunity to gain more answers, it was going to get extremely dangerous for _everyone_ involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, remember that Harry isn’t the most reliable of narrators when it comes to analysing Thedas. It might seem like I’m making the DA world out to be a horrible place, and for the Hawke Gang to have no morals and be terrible people, but I’m really not trying to do that. Harry might notice more than he ICly should, be he’s still not noticing or realising the reasons behind what the others do. Plus, Kirkwall is a shithole. That’s canon. Don’t worry, Harry and the Gang will get along eventually. Also, I won't be doing a 'mission by mission + Harry' recap of DA2, but Harry will participate in a few before things go completely off script. I also need to learn to 'Say more, speak less' when writing.


	4. Makes the Blood Boil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Apologies for the long wait, that was unplanned. More info on that in the other AN at the bottom. Also, another reminder not to take Harry's opinions as my own, and that he will need longer than a couple of days to adjust to Kirkwall.

The stairs led into a fully underground area, similar to the tunnels he first woke up to in Kirkwall and looking like an even more confining version of the streets just above, which was impressive, considering what Darktown was like. Despite the time of night and the enclosed nature of the tunnels, the area had low visibility provided by closed lanterns hanging from metal posts and bioluminescent growth peeking out from cracks in the walls. The lit lanterns bothered Harry, but he wasn't sure how active this so called 'Undercity' was.

'Because of course, having a 'Darktown' beneath a 'Lowtown' wasn't enough for this city; they needed yet another, deeper, layer to house their worst blood wielding criminals.' Harry mentally grumbled.

Hawke made a motion for the group to pause as they reached a platform that had yet another set of stairs leading down. The level below them might have been considered spacious compared to the rooms and corridors attached to it, but Harry still felt like he was trapped in an ill planned building rather than streets or sewers. Glancing around, Harry frowned- the middle of the area would be a perfect spot to ambush unwanted visitors and his group wouldn't be able to see into the other tunnels until in line of sight of anyone waiting. Moreover, unless they could afford magically automated lanterns or paid lantern lighters down here, the lit lanterns suggested recent activity.

The others seemed to share his caution, Dog growling lowly and Hawke tilting her head towards Bethany who nodded grimly.

"The fade's thinner here. I can sense the lingering of blood magic- we should be careful."

Harry frowned and looked around the room again, taking the opportunity to try and 'feel' it out.

There was a sense of… threat. Like when you know something is about to go wrong or a dream is about to turn bad. In many ways the feeling reminded Harry of when Dementors were around, making him grip his wand tighter.

"And there's a trap I need to disarm somewhere. Our late lady of the rose informed us of a switch being near the entrance if I recall correctly." Varric narrowed his eyes, daring to get closer to the edge of the platform to get a better view of the room, "There, at the bottom of the stairs- there's a patch of uneven ground too square shape to be normal, and a well-trodden patch like that wouldn't be elevated like that."

"Damn, that'll leave us open if you need time to disarm it." Hawke tutted and gave another quick scan of the area, but before she could give an order to move into positions, Harry raised his wand with a questioning look.

"May I? If anyone's waiting down there, I might be able to tell."

Hawke raised a brow at him, but gave him a considering look and a nod.

Harry quietly murmured a Homenum Revelio, watching the near transparent wisps float out into the main chamber, attempting to seek out any humans in front of them. The wisps seemed to twist about in the dim room in confusion, hovering near heaps of refuse and abandoned sacks before dispersing. Harry frowned- that spell should only mark humanoid targets and wouldn't cast any wisps if there weren't any in front of the caster. Whoever was down there, if anyone, would already be aware they were there by the noise they had made, so he felt no concern summoning a Lumos and throwing the spark of blue light towards one of the piles. He felt like he'd rather be able to see a potential enemy clearer and be seen in turn, than potentially have the enemy know where they were and not see them.

The light landed and bounced gently towards the chosen target, illuminating a twisted and emaciated form of a hand stretching out from the 'pile'.

"Is that…" Bethany trailed off.

"That's a body alright." Varric confirmed with a grimace.

"Something's not right about it- that spell was meant to detect living humans. " Harry took a step towards the edge of the platform carefully, throwing out another and stronger Lumos into the room, watching the light gracefully float down and bounce balloon-like off the ground, revealing more of the debris in the room to be suspiciously humanoid shaped.

Harry grimaced before continuing his train of thought aloud "And why just leave bodies to be found like this?"

"As a warning." Fenris replied grimly, the others cautiously leaning in to get a better view of the scene in front of them as well. The elf had raised his hand towards the broad sword strapped to his back, looking over the room with a sense of detached revulsion.

"Well, blood mages aren't known for their sense of décor and the law doesn't tend to reach down this far for frequent cleanings. Besides, you specified 'humans', and we know from Ilani that some are elves. Some might not even strictly be considered 'people'." Varric hadn't moved from the spot he first edged into, but his finger was now resting on Bianca's trigger.

Hawke had been watching Harry's spells silently and taking in the newly lit details of the room, her jaw gritted tight.

"You're implying that those bodies might not be fully dead, is that it?" Hawke looked to Harry, who after a moment of thinking over if that was what it meant, gave an uncertain nod and a shrug, which Hawke accepted with a deep breath and shifted feet, "I think Fenris has the right idea of it, and I don't like that their supposedly trapped entry room is scattered with could-be-corpses. Fenris, Dog; We're going to watch the stairs, the rest of you keep an eye on the room."

With that Hawke stepped forward, as the others got into their positions, unsheathing her sword and using the flat of the blade to bang on the platform's edge as if she were calling animals in to feed. They waited for a tense moment, as the first Lumos flickered out, but none of the corpses moved even as the feeling of dread rose. Harry gripped his wand, worried he had given a false alarm and unnecessarily slowed them down, but as Hawke leant forward over the edge to stare into the growing darkness Bethany called out in warning.

"Marian- Below!"

The shadowed claw that had peeled silently off of the wall and had been reaching for Hawke was quickly struck back with the woman's sword, the shadow screeching in anger and pushing away from the platform wall to float back into the main room. The screech seemed to awaken what their light and noise had not, one of the corpses shakily pushing its self up and turning its face towards them.

A face that was a horrific mess, with of teeth of all shapes and sizes growing like a cancer across it.

"Fuck- Shades and abominations! No one go past the stairs until Varric gets that switch! Dog, Guard!" Hawke barked commands as she moved closer towards the stairs, but her eyes were on the shades that were now parting from the shadows and could by pass Dog's and Fenris' position by simply floating up onto the platform.

The feeling of being drained increased as the shades revealed themselves. They were the dementor like creatures from when Harry first woke up here, but they were less uniform in appearance than dementors were. While all of them were dark shadows, literal 'shades', their figures and behaviour differed, making predicting their next move difficult. The one that had first tried attacking Hawke was a werewolf like figure and appeared to have taken it upon itself to rally and urge the others on to attacking their group first.

Previous assigned roles now being considered 'guidelines', Bethany took to aiding her sister beat back the new shades, along with Varric's help, while Harry kept Fenris and Dog from being overwhelmed. It turns out the 'switch' Idunna spoke of was simply a trap itself, snapping shut around the tooth-corpse's skeletal leg, although the creature still reached towards Dog with desperate grasping fingers, jaw jittering. More worrying were the new monstrous corpses that had joined it. One was a shambling, slouched being of twisted and malformed flesh that ignored the knockback and stunning spells Harry threw at it and barely registered when Harry set the thing on fire thinking it must be a type of inferi. Another was a screeching, thrashing thing, looking like a woman that had been burned from the inside out, muscles grossly overgrown and misshapen, flinging herself carelessly onto Fenris' blade after running over the prone tooth corpse.

With all their attention on the attackers in front of them, none registered the shadows forming behind them in time. Harry only just managed to turn and shout out a warning before a claw struck him back off the platform and into the room below, the blow disorientating more than the fall. It was as though he'd been hit by a sudden wave of tiredness and apathy and for a moment he felt no motivation to move. It would be easier just to lay there, take a moment to catch his breath…

The effect was broken when the still smouldering lumbering-corpse from before suddenly seemed to gain a burst of energy at the sight of a prone victim and Harry's self-preservation came back full force to stop the creature as it lunged onto him. He had to resort to kicking it back as it fell on him, unable to manoeuvre his arms to cast a spell without waving a hand straight into the creatures waving limbs.

Harry really hatedclose range combat and creatures that wanted to eat him with their teeth.

Dog suddenly appeared on top of the creature, teeth sinking into where shoulder met neck and shaking, which on one hand distracted the thing from eating Harry, but on another added even more weight onto his legs that had been crushed between the creatures belly and his. It was a small mercy that the thing seemed more interested in tearing at his face and torso and not the legs within range.

"I think we can count that as the trap being dealt with Hawke!" Varric's voice called out over the fight as Fenris managed to push away his own opponent to make time to shoulder ram Harry's off of him.

"On your feet!"

Harry rolled back onto his feet gladly, in time to throw a Flipendo at the screeching corpse before it could make towards Fenris again, uncertain how else to deal with an inferi that was emitting heat like it was already on fire. Not that fire did much to the one that had attacked Harry.

Cursing to himself, Harry realised that the shades could come from any direction and their defensive positions had been scattered. Opinions on his Patronus be damned- Prongs would provide one of the best defences Harry could offer in this situation. With a flick of his wrist, the silver-blue stag danced past a startled Fenris, clipping the screeching corpse with a horn as Prongs charged towards the shades gathering on the companions above. The shades all seemed to turn at once to Prongs, his presence demanding their attention somehow. All except the wolf like one who had first attacked, who was keeping away from the battle, waiting.

Although the fiery corpse was not nearly as distracted as the shades were, Fenris used the small opening made by Prongs to finally land a lethal blow on the screecher, sword cleaving through a shoulder and into the ribcage-

\- only for the wolf like shade from before lunging forward, into the creature, snapping something up and it's shape loosing coherency for a moment. The corpse begun to crack away like a molten shell, boiling blood being spat out as a fiery being tore its way out of the charred remains.

On impulse, Harry cast Aguamenti at the creature of fire, although almost immediately regretted it as steam and roars of indignation erupted, both he and Fenris needing to pull back away from the scalding vapour. Harry was barely aware of the arrows and spells being flung over his head, as he raised a protego shield in time to catch the burning claws and stunted muzzle lunging for him and Fenris through the steam. The creature raged against the shield and Harry winced as he could almost feel the vibrations running through the spell as if they were running through him, but was abruptly halted when Hawke's sword cleaved down its back. Harry intuitively dropped the shield to allow Fenris to thrust his own blade into the being, and all three of them watched as it appeared to flicked and die like a burnt out log- or in this case charred remains that bore only a passing resemblance to a human's.

And suddenly there was silence. Harry glanced around to see that the shambling corpse had a chunk torn out of its shoulder courtesy of Dog, and an array of cuts, burns and bolts stuck in it. The tooth-corpse had apparently lost the battle of teeth to Dog earlier as well; the top of its skull crushed and withered limbs broken.

"Demons and abominations. Damn it. Looks like we've found the place alright." Hawke kicked one of the twisted corpses with a look between disgust and pity, "Can't tell if this was one of the mages we're hunting, or a poor sod that was unfortunate enough to pick the wrong alley to sleep in."

"Wait- that was a person?" Harry paled, looking down on the slain shambler, now seeing how its rotted face looked like someone had grabbed an ordinary person's face and twisted, before letting strange growths of malformed and bloody muscle grow freely, attaching limbs in ways that they should never be connected, "And… you say that Anders is one of these… things?"

"Anders is possessed, the same way these corpses were. It's only a matter of time before the demon in him begins to reshape his body to reflect what's inside." Fenris spoke the statement so matter of fact, like it wasn't unusual or horrifying that one of his group's companions would be taken over in such a way. Before Harry could open his mouth to voice his revulsion, Fenris' eyes widened and he took a step back, looking over Harry's shoulder.

Prongs pressed his semi-physical nose against the side of Harry's face in way of greeting.

"I was about to mention…" Bethany spoke up from behind him, as Harry lifted a hand to stroke the stag's neck, "Your friend, Prongs, is still with us? I think we should actually be grateful you called on him, despite what we said earlier. He's very good at chasing off shades."

Dog's barks of excitement drew Prong's attention away from Harry, and the Patronus pranced in its spot excitedly, almost as if inviting the mabari hound to play. Dog, however, seemed to have more sense than the summoned Patronus and instead of engaging in a play fight in the middle of a blood mage den, moved towards a baffled Hawke. It still looked like it took a lot of effort on the hound's part to ignore his curiosity and invitation to play, stumpy tail wagging strongly enough to make the whole dog shake.

"So this is Prongs? I saw it in the battle before, when we found you, but I didn't have much attention to spare towards it-him. I actually thought he died, or whatever it is that spirits do when defeated in this plane…" Hawke, despite her misgivings about spirits, seemed rather amazed by the Patronus, a gentle look of awe on her face.

Harry certainly wasn't about to inform her that it didn't expect Prongs to still be hanging around. Harry rarely kept Prongs summoned for any length of time and, considering that Harry's emotions were currently in turmoil, Prongs should have lost focus by now. Yet here Prongs stood, seeming to quizzically look around at the people gathered there. He'd never seen the ethereal stag act like this before, as usually the Patronus only followed his directions before fading away.

The Hawke sisters, and Dog to an extent, seemed fascinated by him. Varric, for all his previous endorsement of Prongs, looked more bemused than awed. Fenris, on the other hand, had taken a dark look, scowling at Harry.

It didn't seem to bother Harry as much as he expected it would. Prongs' presence was a calming balm and the constant buzz of irritation that had dug under Harry's skin since he arrived here seemed to fade. Instead of being angry at the man for scorning one of the best things that had come from Harry's magic, the wizard was now collected enough to note Fenris' defensive stance and the way he kept away from the Patronus.

Varric said that Fenris had had bad experiences with magic and these people seemed to group Prongs, spirits and demons together. Harry could understand that it would be unrealistic to expect Fenris to be comfortable around Prongs- even if he was wrong about the Patronus and Harry in general.

Prongs, seemingly unaware of the tense atmosphere and underlying danger of the situation, shook himself out lazily before fading gracefully away, walking into Harry while doing so. Harry blinked, momentarily disappointed at the loss of the Patronus' presence, but took Prongs' behaviour in stride.

"See? Prongs is no threat to us."

Bethany seemed deeply confused by something, mouth moving as if she wanted to voice a question but was uncertain if she should. Aside from her and Fenris, who didn't accept Harry's platitude, the others seemed to accept that Harry's 'come and go spirit' wasn't a threat or immediate concern, Hawke instead turning to look around the room thoughtfully.

"Varric, help me do a quick search of the bodies. The rest of you keep an eye out in case our entrance their gained attention." Hawke took back control of the situation, and she and Varric began tentatively checking the corpses and the other piles in the room that hadn't turned out to be monsters.

Harry took the opportunity to inspect one of the lanterns, wondering if he could make a guess at how long ago it had been lit from the candle within, but was surprise to find that the lantern caged a dim sphere of light not unlike a Lumos.

"It's magic?" Harry couldn't help but ask, to which Bethany glanced over curiously, taking a moment to realise he was talking about the lantern.

"Oh- yes. The novices in the circle are apparently tasked with making them as practise and they often get 'sold' to outside buyers. It's a rather simple spell really, but permanency can be tricky to get right. Most fade out after a month or so."

"The local gangs like to play capture the flag with them." Varric added from where he was nudging a corpse with a foot, "Like to steal them from each other just to mess with one another. But they're useful as a long term light source that throws people off guard- no way to tell how long ago it was put up and tend to mark out 'mage light' areas. Best to avoid them if you don't want trouble."

"Of course, we're going to follow them." Hawke grinned sharply, which managed to get a huff of amusement from Fenris who was sticking close to the woman's side. Although the elf had been quick to aid Harry in battle, he didn't seem keen on interacting with him more than necessary outside of it. Hawke gave the gesture to move on, she and Varric taking the lead with Fenris guarding the rear.

For the most part, it was more of the same. They searched the room, Varric disarmed traps, they checked corpses to make sure they weren't Templars recruits, and then got attacked by said corpses as they reanimated. Occasionally they were assaulted by far older, skeletal corpses that left Harry wondering if it was common to dispose of bodies down here.

Harry began picking up the rhythm of the group, and helped out in minor ways by providing light, casting detection charms to help give any sense of warning, or simply just using his head to help follow the blood mages' tracks so they didn't wind up going down some side alley. He also managed to close some of the more minor wounds and fix small fractures the group gained as they pressed forward, although Fenris shut down any offers to himself with a sharp glare and growled 'I'll manage'. Hawke and Bethany watched closely as he cast basic magical first aid, Hawke with a considering look and Bethany one of confused curiosity.

It became obvious that whatever blood mages had laid these traps and caused these abominations and demons to appear were arrogant enough to presume that no one would easily get past them, or where otherwise preoccupied, as none appeared to challenge them.

He didn't summon Prongs again to fight off the new monsters that would attack though. It was difficult and tiring to summon up and call on such strong emotions repeatedly. Instead he took the opportunity to experiment with what spells worked best on these creatures, occasionally discussing techniques with Bethany, who preferred more fire, ice and 'spirit' based spells but found ice the most reliable for demons. This prompted Hawke to jokingly point out a blade worked just fine and getting Fenris to occasionally join in with her playful jests about the mages over complicating things. Varric started 'speaking' to Bianca, shaking his head at all of their techniques. Dog barked with great insightfulness.

It was during these strangely light hearted chatter that Fenris tilted his head at Bethany and Harry discussing spells again, and spoke in Harry's direction.

"Vulgare Tevene loquerisne vous? Und'es?"

Apparently no one else in the group was quite sure how to react to that either, glancing between Fenris and Harry questioningly. Harry just glanced from face to face, searching for answers- was he supposed to have understood? He wasn't even sure if that was French or Latin.

"Ah… 'Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus' is about the extent of my Latin- outside of spells? So, I… don't understand what you just said. Something about 'vulgar' and... that's about it."

Now it was Fenris' turn to look confused, eyes narrowed. He didn't respond or expand further on the strange interjection and it was up to Varric to break the silence by asking Fenris about how much 'Tevene' was spoken in Tevinter. Harry could hug the dwarf for subtly telling Harry what Tevene was; apparently a language spoken in Tevinter that was very similar to Latin. Was Fenris testing to see if he was from Tevinter? He looked to Bethany to see if she could add anything to the situation.

The wit- mage was frowning thoughtfully at Fenris, but when she caught Harry looking she gave him a small smile and took up the conversation again from where they left off, ignoring what just happened. Harry reluctantly followed suit and the chatter stuttered back into swing.

The banter helped to lighten the mood, helping them all cope with the fact they were tracking blood mages by the trail of dead and possessed bodies they left behind. Harry could understand the use of black humour. The older Aurors he worked with have developed it as well, as a way of dealing with the harsh and bleak reality their job sometimes forced them to face. He hadn't really picked up a sense for it yet, but he didn't deny others their copying methods. He still had to question what sort of culture allowed criminals such as these blood mages to so blatantly set up dens full of victims and care so little about being found. In an attempt to be understanding, he supposed that blood mages weren't exactly prime examples of sane and logical thought and the fact Hawke and her mercenary band had been paid to investigate the issue was some reassurance that this activity wasn't allowed to take place freely. Still, maybe this Aveline, to-be-captain of the guards, could shed some light on the issue. Harry felt like trying to talk to the 'Templars' instead might not go well for him, especially if it were to discuss their capabilities on keeping dark magic users in check.

Not that he was planning on sticking around long enough to help sort out this sorry system, of course, but he could surely help were he could? Until he gained more information from these blood mages and found a way home, anyway.

Harry was drawn out of his thoughts as the banter died down, the group sensing they were getting close to the heart of the Blood mage's den. The cautious suspense grew as the tunnels became oddly innocuous and empty compared to the ones they'd come through. And then, in yet another room of carved stone with murals of starved, eyeless slaves, they found something different; A young man, near naked, floated motionlessly inside a swirl of magic, curled protectively around himself.

"What in the Maker's name…" Hawke whispered, eyes darting over the man as she approached the strange phenomena. Perhaps, had their focus not been so fixated on the strange sight, they would have noticed the other figures taking position around them.

"How wonderful, more vessels for our experiment."

Hawke's group instantly took defensive positions. Harry frowned at figures spreading out in front of them. Four people, all humans and almost certainly the blood mages they were looking for. They were dressed in similar robes and veils to the ones the people that had summoned Harry had worn, and Harry wondered if that was a sign of being in the same group or if was just the fashion of witches and wizards here. Only one faced was unveiled, belonging to the woman who had spoken, revealing a faintly tattooed face framed by intricate braids. Her white painted lips stretched into an empty smile.

'And her eyes are the same shade of crazy as Ilani's.' Harry thought, tightening his grip on his wand.

Hawke positioned herself in front of the group, blade low but ready. From his position, he couldn't see the warrior woman's face, but he could hear firm fury in her voice.

"Where is Keran?"

"Perhaps the demons will find one of you suitable." The woman continued as if Hawke hadn't spoken, head tilting, smile stretching further. She's insane, Harry thought, although it was a different madness to Ilani's; a quiet, manic instability. However, it seemed like Harry's companions had gleaned something else from her behaviour.

"How could you let a demon trick you into this? Were you taught nothing?" Bethany asked with resigned rhetoric.

"Usually, abominations aren't quite so open about being slaves to demons." Varric replied wryly, adjusting Bianca.

Abomination? Harry frowned, looking at the woman again. Was she one more like they say Anders is, with the demon lurking hidden beneath, or did abomination also refer to any person doing the bidding of demons? Either way, if a demon could lie hidden under someone's face like that, then he could understand why the people of this world were wary of anything involving demons. Anders' at least glowed blue occasionally, but Harry had no idea how he was supposed to be able to tell this woman was 'possessed'.

The falsely serene look broke into a furious snarl, as the woman reacted to Varric's and Bethany's quips, the male mages shifting in anticipation for a fight. Now aware to look out for strange behaviour, Harry noticed two of the men moved oddly. One moved with a tiredness to his limbs, even as they bent in ways that should have been painful, arm over stretched as it steadied his staff. He had barely moved from the woman's side, compared to the other two. Another had a knuckle-white grip, breathing erratically as his eyes flicked over all of them, including his own companions, giving Harry the impression of a rabid dog seconds away from attacking. Harry shifted, more uncertain about this situation than before, as he was unable to tell if this was regular 'completely crazy' or 'demon crazy'.

"I am not some hopeless waif that ran crying to demons- I sought them out and embraced them!"

She was mad. Mad enough to seek out forbidden power, to risk her humanity to become stronger- better than others she looked down on.

"Seen it all before." Harry muttered to himself, even as Hawke tried again at questioning the woman. Harry supposed that Hawke didn't lie before then, when she said she'd would try diplomacy if given the chance. Now, however, Harry wasn't so sure she wasn't right in her judgment of death either. This didn't seem like a woman who be talked back from the abyss she'd willingly thrown herself into- a woman who's group had left corrupted and twisted people, mages and muggles, dead and dying, in their wake.

"Why have you taken the recruits… to make them 'vessels'- abominations?" Hawke warily spoke, although there was a tone to her voice that suggested she was stalling and fishing for information more than anything.

The woman smiled in a way that made Harry feel sick.

"Demons can inhabit much more than mage and corpse. With assistance, they can control anyone I ask." Her white lips grinned, and for a moment, Harry was reminded of Umbridge, and her false smile as she 'taught' her fanaticism to children, "Any Templar…" Her eyes dart to the magic caught man, "Any noble… Any well-meaning meddler…" Her eyes snap onto them, grin mocking.

Hawke's hand tightened on her sword, and Harry could feel the rest of them shift, ready to respond to whatever direction this interaction turned. Fenris was keeping a close watching on the twitchy mage that was impatiently circling them, while Bethany and Varric focused on the man who had yet to show signs of any overt madness, calmly waiting in his position near a pillar. That left the woman and the tired man, paired together, for Hawke and Harry to watch. Yet, as the two groups sized each other up, on the edge of attacking, Hawke paused. Her head tilted slightly towards Harry, considering, before looking back to the woman.

"If you turn yourself in now, the Templars mayspare your life."

Harry blinked. Hawke was giving them a chance, despite what she had said? Why offer this woman, who was so obviously mad, so incriminated, that mercy, but not offer it to Idunna? Idunna wasn't innocent, Harry knew that, but she was cooperating at least, unlike this mad woman. But there was insincerity to Hawke's offer anyway, like she knew it would be rejected. As it turns out, she was right.

"The Templars," the woman spat, her followers scoffing at the offer as well, "We will destroy their entire pathetic order. If a few more Templars fall to the demons, we can sow chaos in their ranks- How many abominations can they discover amongst their own before it drives the knight-commander crazy!"

"Bloody hell, she's monologuing." Harry shook his head, staring at her in disbelief.

"Classic villainous mistake, although a little cliché." Varric adds, his own expression crossed between exasperation and caution, still watching his mark, who had now lowered his veil to smile at them like he knew something they didn't.

Then Harry realised what Hawke might be trying to do. This woman wanted to talk and share her plans, like mad fanatics tend to. With that in mind, Harry licked his lips and tried chasing the information he had come here for.

"That seems to be a different plan to Ilani's. She seemed to be a bit more ambitious than you are."

The woman's eyes snapped to him, lips curled in a grinning snarl.

"Ilani? That pathetic knife-eared bitch?" The woman broke out into a cackle, obviously finding the topic as amusing as it was irritating to her, "That excuse of a mage and fake Dalish thought our revolution laid in the ways of the ancient elves, failing to see how the Tevinter Imperium conquered her pathetic kind and their magic. An elf is an elf, mage or not."

Fenris was bristling beside Hawke, but seemed focused on his task of watching the rabid mage who looked close to hyperventilating now, with only a quite murmur of 'Typical' as a response to the woman's insults.

Her grin turned sharper as she glanced them over, "You killed her then? Was she the one who squealed and thought she could beg for her worthless life by selling us out? Did she tell you her wondrous plan of summoning an elven demon? It must have failed spectacularly if even your lot could deal with her. " She began to laugh again, greatly amused by her fellow blood mage's plans and plight. Harry noticed his companions frown and throw him glances, especially at the 'elven demon' comment.

However, when Hawke glanced towards Harry, with anger and impatience on her face, it was still obvious she was asking whether he had anything left to ask. Harry felt frustration well up in himself. It didn't appear this woman actually worked closely with Ilani, and certainly didn't seem to care about what Ilani had been attempting. Harry eventually shook his head, and Hawke turned her blade in an unspoken message to the others.

"Good to know you're barking mad. That makes things easier."

With that, multiple things happened at once.

The twitchy mage that had entered a staring competition with Fenris leapt before anyone else, staff swinging into the middle of their group, trailing fire.

Fenris raised his blade in guard, sparks raining down on the group who stoically ignored it in favour of their own tasks.

Dog lunged forward onto the man beside the woman.

Varric and Bethany both began firing upon the quiet mage who ducked behind the pillar.

Hawke swung her blade towards the furious female mage, who was crying out in seething rage.

"We should be ruling them! We should rule you all! Kill the vessels, only if you must!"

Harry's first move was to throw a knockback charm at the mage attacking Fenris- the mage who was now howling in outraged frustration and arms moving at blurring speed, staff whistling. His muscles were making unnerving and audible ripping sounds as they were torn apart by the erratic movement. There was a pained yelp as Dog was thrown off of the mage he had tackled to the ground like he weighed nothing, the mage himself slowly sitting back up face distorting into a caricature of bored irritation, face softening like wax. Harry quickly managed to cast a Protego between Dog and the wave of earth the sitting mage had effortlessly had dragged from beside him with a lazy swat.

Bethany and Varric had managed to keep the other mage pressed behind the pillar, and although low laughter had begun to spill out from behind it, Varric had decided Bethany had that front covered and aided Harry by shooting a bolt into the sitting mages face.

The mage looked annoyed and reached up to pull the bolt out of his clay soft face with a grunt.

Harry found himself turning between the two obviously possessed male mages, keeping the hissing snarling mage from getting too close to Fenris while simply just attempting to keep the clayfaced mage down. He began to focus on slowing spells for the clay mage, who seemed to shrug off offensive wounds like they were nothing and effortlessly threw back waves of magical force. However, he almost seemed resigned to being caught in ropes, having his feet stuck to the ground or even being petrified- although he 'melted' back out of the latter easily enough.

Fenris seemed to have the bad luck of getting another berserker, the mage- the abomination- that was attacking him had dropped its staff at some point and was howling in frustrated anger, tearing at its own face as much as it tried to pull the elf's great sword away from him- or anything it could reach. Its skin had also seemed to have ripped as much as is muscles had earlier, adding to the wounds Fenris was goring into it. Yet, in a sight familiar to Harry from his battle with Ilani, all the open wounds were only letting blood seep into the spiralling and lashing tendrils filling the air like whips, attempting to strike and tear at Fenris' exposed skin. Knockback and stunning spells seemed to disrupt the blood whips and flailing limbs long enough to give Fenris an edge, but neither abomination seemed to register wounds or stay slowed for long.

After Dog had given up on trying to bite into the gummy abomination, and choosing to focus on the still very much human female mage that Hawke was furiously keeping back, Harry had a sudden idea. He turned and cast Glacius at the claylike abomination and the once human male began to freeze, sighing with tired resignation as its amorphous form hardened.

"Fenris! Swap!"

Harry hoped the elf was inclined to work with him on this, as he ducked around Fenris to knock back the bleeding and screaming mess that was the other abomination. Fenris looked disgruntled at the change in tactics, but in a show of intuition and adaptability, instantly realised the opportunity he had with the frozen abomination Harry had abandoned, swinging his heavy blade down into it. The strike caused the frozen clay flesh to shatter explosively.

Harry for his part managed to trap the bleeding abomination against the stone wall with a forced continual Depulso. It was tiring, maintaining the same intention and focus required to keep up a spell that as best used in a short abomination, with nothing for it to vent on nearby, began to tear itself apart. The tendrils of blood managed to creep around the edges of the spell and float through the air, looking like they were trying to feel out for new victims, eventually breaking and falling to the floor as they over stretched themselves. Harry swallowed his horror and was glad the spell seemed to discourage the tendrils from coming towards him, as he watched the creature howl in pain and pure frustration as it dug into itself. He had no idea how to stop the thing from killing itself, but he also couldn't risk lowering the spell. With a shaking breath, he steeled himself and pushed into the spell, keeping the pitiful flailing creature pinned.

Behind him he could hear Hawke and Varric taunt the female mage who screamed near intelligible insults out, and a short 'Hang on, Bethany!' from Fenris, while the laughter from before had grown to a cruel, almost hysterical, level. Risking a glance over his shoulder, Harry spotted the laughing mage ducking in and out of cover, throwing spells with abandon over his shoulder at Bethany. Bethany's face was set in a determined scowl as she dodged the spells being thrown at her, having chased the man out from each cover he'd ducked behind, but never managing to land a blow on him.

Harry glanced back to the creature he had pinned, noticing how its flailing had slowed, its breaths coming out in rasping, angry sobs. Harry's Depulso had already weakened from his distraction and was barely keeping the thing upright. With gritted teeth and shaking hands, Harry turned to judge what fight currently needed him most.

Hawke seemed to have been able to hold her own against the now badly wounded mad woman, although Hawke herself had also taken a few blows, the left side of her face marred by what looked like a cross between a burn and a knife wound. With Dog and Varric aiding her, the female mage didn't have long left. On the other hand, Bethany's laughing mage seemed ineffectual but proving hard to put down, even with Fenris now able to physically charge into the mage while Bethany countered his magic.

Harry was about to go back up Bethany when the laughing mage's laughter turned into a hiccupping mess close to hyperventilating, a manic voice breaking between breaths.

"Ha- It's. Not over. Y-yet, don't you. See?" His grin broadened, although he looked on the verge of tears, the façade of him being the calmest breaking as he pressed a dagger to his own raised arm and sliced upward.

Instead of the blood forming in ways Harry had seen it do previously, this time the red ichor seemed to collide with something in the air and tear through. Harry's teeth set on edge, the near constant feeling of cloying strangeness in the air suddenly turning to a feeling of being dunked under.

"Marian!" Bethany called out just as the man began to laugh again.

"Come through, Avidity!"

Almost like watching someone apparate in slow motion, although it all happened in seconds, Harry watched in confusion as a figure began to form where the blood had burned through the air. At first, he thought it was another shade, before it began to solidify and become more.

Harry's brief exposure with magical creatures and races meant he felt comfortable describing the being simply as a 'culturally beautiful and imposing male humanoid', although in truth that didn't do the creature justice or explain what it was.

Although Harry could easily take a guess and say 'Demon'.

The presumed male demon had long and graceful, forward pointed horns and a mane of silver hair that twisted around his body. Scantily clad in sheer regal clothes and copious amounts of jewellery, the man twisted around in the air, taking in his surrounding with a look of hunger- then insult. Upon further inspection the hair turned out to be fine silver chains, and the 'beautiful' face was unrealistic in its perfection, even as it twisted into an offended snarl.

Hawke had apparently taken the opportunity to slay the female mage, although Harry could still hear the faint laughter of the male mage. All eyes were on the man and he seemed happy enough to be the centre of attention, although he scowled down at Hawke when he noticed her and the blade she had run through the woman with.

"You… You kill those who called me? Who desire more? You hinder the change that they desire, that we all desire? Why?"

Harry was set more on edge by the final, probing question, feeling something glance across him. He quickly through up what little occlumency shields he could, resisting the urge to mentally answer the question. He had no idea how successful he'd been, having never been a skilled occlumens, but as the demon looked them over he seemed to reserve a peculiar look for him that was a cross between curiosity and affront. He barely seemed to register Varric or Dog at all.

"You," His eyes alighted back on Hawke, a smug grin cutting across his face, "You desire change and power for yourself. Your title returned, your purse full, this city-"

Whatever he was going to say after that was cut off as Bethany pushed a wave of icy shards at the demon's back with an angry shout. Varric took this as a cue to open fire and as the demon thrashed in the air, cries of shock and pain ringing out, sinking a bolt into his shoulder. Hawke recovered from whatever had her frozen under the demon's gaze and her face hardened.

"Get him on the ground!"

Harry blinked, hearing the order and watching as 'Avidity' swirled round in anger, sweeping a hand towards Bethany, purple energy racing towards her. Decision made, Harry cast Carpe Retractum, whipping the rope of light around the demons foot and pulling down. He was too late to stop the wave of energy already released, although Fenris was quick to tackle Bethany to the ground, but Avidity still called out in alarm and the energy gathered around his other palm fizzled out.

Although he initially managed to lower the demon slightly due to surprise, as soon as Avidity realised what had happened, he snarled and tugged back upwards with surprising strength, and Harry found himself digging his heels in not to be dragged up with him. This was why it wasn't recommended using this spell on large creatures, Harry groaned internally.

Harry himself was surprised when an armoured shoulder nearly barrelled into his own, as Hawke first tried to grab hold of the rope of light from Harry's wand and then, once realising she couldn't exert pressure on it, grabbed Harry's arm and hands instead and pulled down with all the strength it took to wield a bastard sword in heavy armour. With the physical side of the spell suddenly taken care of by Hawke, Harry tried to focus on mentally strengthening and retracting the rope. Avidity cried out in indignation, sending out another wave of energy, this time it was purple lightning sparking from the air he was born from. Although Hawke had quickly angled herself to try and shield the less armoured Harry, a sudden flashing pain shot through him, making him gasp.

The energy left a trail of sensation that could be described as similar to having both chili oil and tea tree oil rubbed into sensitive skin, but deeper in a way that felt wrong;for a flicker of time it felt like being splinched, like parts of him weren't there, or like his mind had been flicked off and on in a nanosecond.

The magicked rope began to fray in his distraction, but they had lowered the demon enough that Dog managed to leap up and sink his teeth into Avidity's leg. The demon clearly didn't like what was happening, and was glancing around for an obvious escape route, one clawed hand raking across the mabari's head in an attempt to dislodge the extra weight.

"I can sense your longing, your aspirations- I can help you reach those. I will help you shape the world you desire! We can achieve together, what one cannot alone!" The demon tried to persuade them again, but the effect was listened when he wasn't focusing on any one person. Realising he was called into a losing situation, and not seeing any clear escape route, Avidity threw himself into fighting them with a snarl. Dog was kicked off, the hound landing with a pained yelp. Waves of energy rained down onto them, but with Avidity caught and floating in the middle of area with no cover he made an easy target as well for Bethany and Varric.

Hawke and Harry did their best to weather the storm of energy, Harry desperately focusing on just keeping the spell up so Avidity couldn't escape. The rope nearly broken, Hawke and Harry managed one last final pull to drag Avidity within range of Fenris' blade, who readily took the opportunity.

For a moment, Harry almost felt sorry for the creature. Avidity spun disorientated, leg free as the rope snapped, a look of confusion on his face one hand reaching for his shoulder. Fenris' great sword had cleaved across the demons back, leaving a split that seemed to smoke instead of bleed. Avidity's almost bird like feet touched the ground and he stumbled back for a moment, as if trying to comprehend what was happening and failing- and then another wave of ice went over him, as Bethany took the opportunity to land another magical strike.

Avidity crumpled almost gracefully after giving an aborted gasp and stilted struggle, face turned towards the dark stone ceiling, brows pinched and mouth opened in a small 'oh', as he began to fade into smoke and tiny tarnished chains of metal.

Watching the scene, Harry almost startled as a gauntleted hand clapped him on the back.

"You alright there, Harry? You seem a little winded…" Hawke stared at Harry in concern, hands helping him to stand straight.

"Yeah, I'm fine, really. Just got clipped by whatever spell he was throwing around- you, uh, look like you got it worse than me." Harry motions to his own cheek, that mirrored the one on Hawke that showed the injury he'd spotted earlier. Now, with a closer look, he could see that Hawke actually had a few more wounds, including discolouration below the skin in strange patterns that didn't bode well, "Are you okay?"

Hawke gave a self-depreciating smile and a shake of her head, but Harry could see the wince as she did so. Harry frowned and looked around the room, searching the others out.

Varric looked the least hurt out of all of them, only the faint impression of a blooming bruise on his hairy chest. Dog was limping and had bad claw wounds across his muzzle and neck and Bethany had a nose bleed and a few scratches. Fenris and Hawke seemed to be fairing the worst out of all of them, having taken the brunt of the attacks. Harry himself was sore all over and still had a faint dizziness.

He also wasn't expecting to see the laughing mage from before still quietly sob-laughing to himself. Not being the only one to see this, Harry ended up joining the others as they looked down on the dying mage. Along with the deep wound on his arm he also had a gouge across his belly, likely given by Fenris. His blood was being drunk by the stone beneath him, although Harry wasn't certain if this type of stone was meant to be porous.

"You… killed him?" the man choked out between sobbing, laughing gasps, the movement obviously painful from the stomach wound. He almost looked saddened by the knowledge, but then closed his eyes and leaned back with a gasping laugh, "H-heh, but don't you see? Change is. Already happening? This city. This place. It calls to us. Here is where the revolution will be born in blood. You killed Tarohne. Avidity. But we're more."

Hawke looked like she was about to draw her dagger and finish the man off, before Harry rested a hand on her arm. He was tired of seeing killing. She looked like she was about to tiredly rebuke him, before he knelt down next to the man, wand poised. The man just gave him a bitter grin. Harry considered briefly whether he should try and enter the man's mind or try and extract some of his memories, but decided against it and simply drew his wand down the man's face, putting him under a bewitched sleep. The man's face went slack, eyes fluttering close, and his breathing appeared to stop. Still, the man's blood slowly bled out from him, the spell putting him under a near stasis, but not stopping the heart entirely.

"It's just… less painful." Harry said, looking up to the others.

Bethany seemed to approve, but the wounded Fenris grimaced.

"Better than he deserved, but that appears to have been the last of them."

Hawke watched Harry a little longer, glancing between him and the 'dead' mage, brow pinched together in thought before softly going 'huh', and looking over to the encased Keran.

"Right... before we check to make sure our Templar recruit is still all himself, I feel like a short moment to catch our breath and slow our bleeding might be a good idea."

Harry nodded and decided to deal with Hawke first, trying to ignore how Fenris immediately moved away to tend to himself. Harry couldn't do much to soothe the internal bleeding, but he could clean and seal the external injuries. Ferula was really meant for fractures, but its pain killing properties and bandages made it useful for larger wounds as well.

He patched Hawke and Dog up easily enough, the latter giving him an enthusiastic and wet thank you, but found he couldn't do much for Varric or Bethany. The other magic user explained her nose bleed and most of their bruising was caused by the spirit energy used by the desire demon, and also pointed out to Harry the extensive bruising appearing on his own skin and that one of his ears was bleeding. Anders could apparently heal it up just fine, but Bethany had yet to grasp how to wield magic the same way.

Harry sighed and approached Fenris, knowing he had some of the worst injuries of the group. The man narrowed his eyes at him from where he was bandaging his left arm, having removed some of his armour to do so. Harry grimaced as he got a closer look at his injuries. It looked like the blood tendrils of the abomination had attempted to dig into the skin around his tattoos, although the crisp white lines remained whole and untouched themselves.. Harry could swear the white tattoos were glowing now…

"Look, I know you… don't want me to use magic on you. I get that, and understand that, but those wounds look pretty bad and I can help." Harry tried, holding his wand loosely in one hand where it could be seen.

Fenris watched him for a moment longer, eyes narrowed, before sighing and gesturing to the arm he was bandaging. Harry nodded, still feeling strange about playing mediwizard but felt a flutter of victory at this small step of progress with Fenris. Carefully reaching out to hold the arm and inspect the wound, a deep tunnelling gouge, he was careful not to touch any of the injuries . Still, in the remaining area of skin that was left to hold, Harry's thumb brushed over one of the bright white tracks going along the inner arm.

Fenris flinched minutely but otherwise seemed to pay the touch little attention, still watching Harry's face and wand carefully. Harry for his part was unnerved by the feeling under his thumb. It felt like static, but also had a sense of pressure both trying to repel him and draw him in at the same time. Frowning, he carefully moved his wand into position suddenly uncertain about what he was doing.

Radiating up his wand arm was a shuddering, vibration that was in no way physical. Harry frowned and lowered his wand, withdrawing his hand as well, even as Fenris raised a brow at his retreat.

"Your tattoos- what are they? Wards?"

"No, they're made of Lyrium." Fenris replied, frowning again, searching Harry's face, "Is there a problem?"

Harry wasn't certain what Lyrium was, although it had been mentioned before, but it felt magical in a way he hadn't encountered before.

"Ah, yeah actually- Sorry. It's just that they feel really strange to me and I have no idea how my magic would interact with them. I could end up making things worse. Probably for the best I didn't cast anything on you, actually." Harry explained apologetically, feeling like he should have just pressed on and completed his assigned role of healer, but also knew that would have been a terrible idea while working with an unknown, possibly volatile magical substance.

Fenris, if anything, actually seemed to approve of the answer and perhaps not just because it validated his behaviour from before. Harry really couldn't read the elf's different shades of brooding wariness well, but he felt like some of that approval was for him. After making a non-committal 'hm' sound and withdrawing his arm, he nodded to Harry.

"Go tend to the others then. I'll see to my own injuries."

Harry had already tended to the others as best he could, but after speaking to Hawke and explaining the situation, the woman gave him a long considering look before saying that they'd just have to make sure to keep the potions and mundane supplies aside for Fenris. As the older Hawke sibling went over to speak quietly with her fellow swordsman, Harry joined the others who had gathered around the still trapped Keran. The cage that had been holding him appeared to be weakening, it's spirals and winds fading away.

"Do you really think he'll turn into yet another of those abominations?" Harry asked, unhappy at the prospect that one of the people they'd come here to save would end up being another monster to watch die. He glanced back towards the now silent 'laughing mage', who appeared to have stopped bleeding. The shattered mage he helped Fenris kill. The raging one that had torn itself apart while trapped under his spell. The remains of Avidity, dust and chains on the floor. Only the female mage had been killed with no part played by him, and yet he still bore part of the responsibility of her death. And for what? None of the others had recovered anything worthwhile from their bodies except spare change and some enchanted equipment.

Bethany gave him a soft smile, almost in apology, but looked uncertain. Varric just shook his head, looking grim.

"I'll suppose we'll find out. So, Hawke- and present mages, any idea how to get him out?" the dwarf gestured towards the still slowly turning spirals of magic that held the boy in stasis, as Hawke moved over with a now bandaged Fenris behind her.

As it turned out, neither Harry nor Bethany needed to try and figure out how to dispel the magical cage as Keran began to stir, his voice just audible as he spoke to himself. It sounded like he was saying 'the lights, mother, the lights!' but Harry had no idea what that could even mean.

Harry was expecting to wait for the prison to slowly fade away, but instead it broke in a sudden burst of light as Keran forcibly uncurled from inside it, showing he had some ability to break free himself.

They all startled and stepped back, ready for anything, as the near naked young man unsteadily pushed to his feet, looking hopeful and frightened. Keran swallowed and looked to Hawke as she stepped forward, swallowing uncertainly.

"It's over then?" The young man asked, stepping back from Hawke even while still looking hopeful.

"I sure hope so- are you Keran?" Hawke asked, blade still sheathed but stance cautious.

"Yes- oh thank the Maker, he's not abandoned me." Keran's shoulders sagged with relief, before he looked up again with renewed uncertainty. "What… what happens now?"

Hawke seemed to consider something before asking, "What can you recall? How you got here, what you saw?"

Keran blushed, suddenly hyper aware of his undressed state, and Harry had a moment to think that the clothes Isabela said would have gotten in the way would actually be useful around now.

"I was with a- a lady. I.. things got fuzzy after that, I don't-" Keran paused, hands wrapping around himself, speaking down to the ground as his eyes went distant. "Nightmares. On fire- for days. Her claws in me- I think I was screaming, I… I'm sorry, I don't remember anything else, I'm… it's all…"

Keran made a gesture to his head, hand shaking. The others looked grim, his words not boding well. Hawke nodded and before Harry could do anything, there was a hiss of metal as she drew the dagger at her hip, lunging forward.

"I'm sorry for this, Keran."

Harry gasped out a no at the same time Keran did, Bethany crying out 'Marian!' in surprise.

The dagger pressed under a shaking Keran's chin, as Hawke stared into the boy's terrified eyes.

"Not possessed then. Sorry, I needed to make sure. Apparently a demon would instinctively rise to protect itself, if its host was threatened."

Keran only looked slightly reassured, stepping further back, gasping in air, and then suddenly looking even more panicked.

"Please don't tell the Templars- they won't believe me, they'll kick me out- please, I'll just… go explain to them. I- I need to see my sister."

Unable to remain out of it while Hawke was thinking, Harry transferred everything from his coat pockets into his trouser pockets, gaining an odd look from Varric until the dwarf caught on as Harry took off his Auror standard trench coat and stepped towards Keran.

"Here, put this on for now. I'll find you some shoes. I don't think you should be going anywhere by yourself, let alone half naked."

Keran startled back at first, before gratefully taking the coat. It was a bit tight on him, the younger lad being far more muscular and broad shouldered, but simply having the extra layer of security seemed to calm him a bit.

"Harry's right- We'll come back with you to the Gallows, make sure you get there safely. It was actually your sister, Macha, who asked us to find you." Hawke nodded to Harry, before turning to Bethany and sharing another one of those silent sibling communications.

Harry meanwhile went back to the 'laughing' mages corpse, grimacing as he pulled the soft cloth and leather shoes off his feet. He could only hope they'd fit Keran enough for the walk to the Gallows and that the young man wouldn't balk too much at the idea of wearing a dead blood mage's shoes.

Handing them over to the young recruit, who was wrapping Harry's coat around himself like a security blanket, Keran shakily put them on with no complaint, glancing over to where Hawke was talking with Bethany and the others.

"Do you think she'll tell them I'm dangerous? I swear, I- I didn't fall to any demons. I fought- I didn't-"

Harry cut him off with a raised hand and then gently gripped his shoulder.

"I'm pretty sure she knows you're not possessed. But… You both have a responsibility to tell the Templars what happened down here. There might be other recruits compromised or taken. They need to know, Keran."

The man looked like that wasn't the answer he wanted to hear, but nodded in understanding.

"… I'll bring your coat back to you. Later, once I've returned. My sister will clean it even, I- thank you."

Harry nodded, but his attention was drawn away from the traumatised recruit when Hawke approached them again.

"Right. The Hawke sisters are going to get you home, Keran, but I'll be speaking to Knight Commander Cullen." Keran just nodded in resignation, having secured the ill-fitting shoes to his feet, "Harry, Fenris is going to accompany us, but Varric thinks that you and he should search the place before heading back. You should stop by Anders' though, tomorrow, ask about those notes."

Harry understood the seal of approval when he heard it. Hawke had watched and judged him, and now he had access to the potentially dangerous blood mage notes. He gave her a small grin and a nod, which she returned, before putting a guiding hand on Keran's shoulder and moving back through the tunnels they came. Bethany gave him and Varric a smile and wave as she left and Fenris gave short nod. Dog seemed to interested in fussing over Keran to pay attention to him or Varric.

"Right, well Specs. We have the unenviable duty of clean up, but we shouldn't linger too long. Won't be long before the new tenants move into the prime real estate we just cleared."

Harry and Varric's search was quick, but thorough. While it looked like the main gatherings took place down here, with books and supplies scurried away into crates and sacks hidden around the place, they both suspected the individual blood mages had their own areas for hiding out and sleeping. Harry wasn't sure what to make of the books they found, most being in a script he couldn't read, or even when it was in a familiar alphabet, he didn't understand the written language. Varric suggested he keep them for now, and bring them to 'Blondie' on his visit.

"What about the bodies? I mean… shouldn't we do something for them?"

"Don't worry about it, Specs. After Hawke tells the Templars, they'll no doubt come down here to investigate, and they're better equipped to handle bodies than we are." Varric had used one of the sacks lying around to make a carrier for all the books he found, handing them over to Harry before then handing over a small handful of silver and copper coins.

"Your cut of the loot. Sorry this was a dead end on your investigation. Doesn't seem like this Tarohne and Ilani got along, but I suppose even blood mages can't stand blood mages."

Harry just gave a half smile, "Yeah, but I suppose with those notes Anders' will have looked over, I might get some progress. So- you and me, walking back to the Hanged man again, huh?"

Varric chuckled, "Yep- I don't know about you, but I could do with a drink or two after a day like this. Blood mages and abominations are just…"

Varric trailed off, and Harry joined him in the knowing silence, glancing to the devastation around them. With a sigh, Harry hefted the heavy book bag onto a shoulder and followed Varric out.

It was slightly colder without his Auror's coat, and he and Varric weren't as chatty as they were before. It was only Harry's second day here, but he'd already seen more death and horror than he had in a long time. He could only hope tomorrow brought more luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, want to know something? I hate writing action scenes.  
> And yet still, somehow, one simple short quest turns into a 10,000 word chapter, because I'm unable to keep action scenes brief. Still, I hope you enjoyed it, and my more freeform take on abominations and demons.
> 
> Fenris: Vulgare Tevene loquerisne vous? Und'es?  
> Do you speak vulgar/common Tevene? Where are you from?  
> The above is…. bastardised Tatin, with a touch of French, because Tevene isn't purely based on Latin, and then I messed it up further to represent it being a nonstandard form.  
> Now, there's not a lot of canon examples of Tevene to go from in DA lore, but from Dorian's comments in DAI it's implied they actually use the trade tongue more, and Tevene is more a flavour thing. Other sources, like the table top, imply it's commonly spoken by the elites, but even a soporati and slave would know it. So, I figure like actual latin, there's standard latin for the educated elites, and a vulgar Latin spoken by the common folk and slaves. Fenris would know both, but speak vulgar Tevene, and even then, would prefer trade tongue.
> 
> Harry replies with the Hogwarts motto, "Never tickle sleeping Dragons"
> 
> So, long delay because I needed to rewrite this after feeling like I had set Harry and Fenris at each other's throats too much. And they're not going to get along, but I felt like I was giving the impression of character bias or bashing. It's a bit tricky with crossover fanfics. In original writing it would be fine to play someone up as a dick and reveal them to be not-quite-as-much-of-a-dick later, but try that with an already established character and it gets messy. It's doable, but I didn't get it right the first time round.  
> Of course, just after I had deleted half the chapter to rewrite it, things in my life distracted me and prevented the chapter from being fixed and posted. So here's your very late, 10k chapter on fighting crazy abominations.  
> Next up, Talking to Anders, shenanigans with Isabela, strange dreams and hopefully a faster pace.


End file.
